


Does It Have a Name

by Arision



Series: Spoiled Prince 'Verse [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Arm Candy Han, Based upon the work of the fabulous Mythoughtcrime, Bodyguard, Clubbing, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Hux will beat this kid into submission if he has to, Kylo is not nice to the staff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Military Hux, Millicent the cat - Freeform, Minor Violence, Multi, OR Hux, OR Rey, On several fronts, PTSD, Poe the even more competent personal assistant, Rey the competent intern, Senator Leia, Smoking, Spoiled Brat Kylo, Spoiled prince AU, Swearing, alcohol consumption, caring for the over-grown man-child that is kylo ren, small amount of violence, technically assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arision/pseuds/Arision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is a retired Army General, running low on funds and VA benefits pay next to nothing.  Phasma turns up with a job that pays well, but requires protecting, rather than murdering, the irritating spoiled brat, Kylo Ren.  The brat's run off bodyguards for anything from seducing them to driving them to violence.  Now, his parents seek someone else to fill the position.  Hux wonders how long it will take him to bend the tantrum-throwing hell-spawn over his knee and give him the paddling he so richly deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting the Ball Rolling

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on @mythoughcrime's fabulous Spoiled Prince AU, and is lightly influenced by Toosigoosi's Insufferable, which is also based off of Mythoughtcrime. Both of them are so fabulous that I just had to try my hand at this. Plus, these boys were begging for it. ;)
> 
> You can find Mythoughtcrime here: http://mythoughtcrime.tumblr.com/tagged/spoiled%20prince%20au  
> Toosigoosi's Insufferable is found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6284878/chapters/14401435

This is based on Mythoughcrime's fabulous [Spoiled Prince AU](http://mythoughtcrime.tumblr.com/tagged/spoiled%20prince%20au), and is lightly influenced by Toosigoosi's [Insufferable](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6284878/chapters/14401435), which is also based off of the same meterial. Both of them are so fabulous that I just had to try my hand at this. Plus, these boys were begging for it. ;)

* * *

 

“No.”

Phasma pauses, her hand stilling the open file she was pushing toward him half way across the table.  She is dressed immaculately in a black pantsuit, not a hair out of place.  She doesn’t belong in this crappy run-down apartment.  Unfortunately, it’s all he can afford on an Army pension.  Her perfectly groomed eyebrows rise, slowly, and with palpable judgement.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Her voice is cold, sharp and precise.  She knows _exactly_ what he means by his refusal, but she’s going to make him say it anyway. Never mind that the reason should be obvious.  He scratches lightly under the band of his eyepatch, feels the bristles of non-regulation facial hair on his cheek.  When had that grown in?  It hadn’t been this long since—He gives himself a mental shake, focusing on the matter on hand.

“I did not spend nearly fifteen years in the Army to babysit some spoiled rich fiend.  I’d sooner sleep on the street.”

“At the rate you’re going, you will be, General.  VA benefits pay next to nothing.  I would know.  The position offers bed and board, above pay and benefits.”

Hux shifts in the ratty arm chair he bought from Goodwill for more than the damn thing was worth, listening to it creak alarmingly underneath him.  She’s right, damn her. 

What with the ever rising cost of living, he has enough saved to keep a roof over his head for three months.  Four, if he eats nothing but ramen noodles.  Beyond that, he was looking at a one way ticket to a cardboard box under an overpass somewhere.  Had it been any  time other than October, he would not even have been entertaining this crazy idea of Phasma’s.

But it _was_ October, and while Hux knows he could survive miserable conditions, he _also_ knows a man cannot eat pride.

“Don’t call me that.” He growls, for lack of a better response.  He knows she is right, but...

He glances again at the open file, notes the picture and the name, and then glances at that morning’s paper, where a different photo altogether highlights the headline title. 

_Playboy Kylo Ren Caught With His Pants Down…Again._

“You cannot honestly believe me capable of protecting some idiot who is hell-bent on being violently murdered in a back ally by some coked-up co-ed.”

Only one eyebrow this time, while she slides the filer closer to him.  He knows she smells the proverbial blood in the water, and while part of him admires her ability to ruthlessly go in for the kill, the other part of him heavily resents _being_ the kill.

“They’re paying above average on this position for a reason.  We both know you’re more than capable of handling one over-grown child bent on self-destruction.  You survived Vilnius.  You’ll survive Benjamin Organa-Solo.”

Phasma leans back, crossing her arms, but not her legs, always ready to move at a moment’s notice.  Hux knows he sits the same way—wary, watchful, always alert, even after more than a year stateside and retired.  His right eye, what’s left of it, gives a phantom ache at the mention of Vilnius.  He resists the urge to rub it.  He knows it won’t help.

“Just so you know, comparing a pampered demon to a terrorist stronghold is not helping your case.”

She snorts.

“You’re just pouting because even with all your brains, you can’t come up with a good enough reason to say no.”

“My desire to retain what is left of my sanity should be reason enough.”

She’s outright smirking now, looking more like the rough and tumble captain he spent the better part of a decade wading through hell-on-earth with. 

“If you were sane, you’d never have enlisted.  Stop whining.  And tell me you have at least _one_ decent suit.”

He feels a soul-deep affront at this.  Poor he might be, but he will be caught naked before he is caught unpresentable.  The sneer oozes across his face, imparting all of the disdain that fills him in this moment.  Lesser mortals have quaked when he delivered such an expression.   Phasma is simply even more amused.  She leans over, picks up the measure of bottom shelf whiskey he’d poured her, slugs it back without a wince.

He knows how awful that stuff is. He’s just too well trained to not offer a guest something, despite his embarrassment at his lack of proper guest resources.  She studies him for a moment.

“Oh, good.  Because I don’t care how many times you’ve saved my life, I am _not_ taking your worthless ass shopping.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Now, now, General.  Such language is non-regulation.”

“Since you apparently require clarification, Phasma, first:  do not call me that, and secondly: fuck off…”

Phasma laughs, deep in her throat, as if he is an amusing creature she found by the side of the road, not an ex-special ops officer with six knives tucked away on his person.  Not that she carries any less.  Hux knows her better than that.  Putting the glass down (Which he wouldn’t not admit, even under threat of death, was his last clean class in the entire apartment), Phasma stands and reaches for her coat.

“I’ve already scheduled you an interview, Hux.  Thursday, 6 P.M., Organa-Solo town house.  The address is in the file.  I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to be punctual?”

Hux considers letting her see herself out for that one, but the little voice in the back of his head that sounds like his mother shrills in horror that he even entertained the idea.  The armchair creaks warningly again as he gets up.  He spares it half a glare, daring it to break in the presence of company.  It would be kindling within the hour.

“I seem to recall punctuality never being _my_ problem, _Eleanora_.” He reminds her as he holds the door open for her to pass through.

“Oh, fuck off, Hux.  That happened _one_ fucking time, and I made up for it in fucking _Beirut_ -”

“Language.”, he chides, shutting the door in her face. 

To the sound of her retreating footsteps and swearing, Hux leans against it with a sigh, scrubbing his hand through his newly grown-beard to keep from rubbing his eye patch. Again.

  He regards the open file on the table with a sense of impending doom.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

* * *

 

He wakes, not how he would prefer, to the persistent kiss of a new lover, but to his mother’s loud, disappointed sigh.  Guich, his soon to be ex-bodyguard, jolts upright with a yelp, actually falling out of the bed in his surprise. 

Taking the sheet with him. 

Charming.

Kylo isn’t all that surprised, since Guich had been downright awful in bed.  Tentative and timid. As scared to mark the precious Organa heir as everyone else.  Wouldn’t do to offend mommy, would it?

Speaking of Mommy-dearest….

“Get dressed, Ben.  We need to talk.”

Kylo scruntches a face down into his pillow, then makes a show of rolling over and stretching, taking his time about it. Guich is scrambling around trying to find all his clothes.  Good luck with that.  Kylo had purposely thrown his pants onto the lamp in the next room.  His soon to be former bodyguard scuttles into that direction, sheet wrapped awkwardly around his hips.  Leia watches him go, then slants a look at her assistant.   

Poe-fucking-Dameron.  He doesn’t care if his mother’s aide is sexy, made for sin.  He’s an obnoxious little ass-kisser.

Dameron slides after Guich into the next room, closing the door most of the way behind him.  Kylo and Leia can still hear him speak quietly a moment later.

“Mr. Guich, Senator Organa will expect your resignation on her desk by three o’clock this afternoon.  I’m sure you understand?”

Leia levels a look at her son.  She must be meeting with someone fairly important and unfriendly, because her Gucci suit is both intimidatingly immaculate and suitably impressive.  She’s looking at him with that same disappointed-slash-irritated-slash-defeated look she always does.  He feels that curdle of shame in his stomach, and shoves it down.  Why should he be sorry when she’d never around to care unless he’s done something to make _her_ life difficult?

“Ben.” She says again, a little louder to cover what sounds like pleading sobs from the other room.

“Don’t call me that.”, he snaps, turning back onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillows.

“I spent thirty hours in labor to give you life.  I can call you whatever I please.”

He snorts into the pillow. 

Of course.  Emphasis on the familial connection when it suits _her_. 

“Don’t try to make that my fault.  You’re the one fucking-“

“ _Ben_!”

“…What?  I’m simply pointing out that my existence is the result of your sex life.”

“Ben, that is inappropriate!”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

There is silence for a few moments, with no interruption from the other room.  Dameron has either calmed Guich down, or kicked him out.  Kylo doesn’t care which.  He adjusts on the bed again, missing the sheet, since the room is a little cold against his bare ass.  He hears Leia take a calming breath, and then something hits him on said ass.

He rolls over to find this morning’s newspaper, with him front and center of the first page.  He doesn’t even remember the guy who’s about to go down on him in the photo.  Never even bothered to learn his name.  He’d scuttled after the paparazzi had snagged a photo, and so he’d had to make do with Guich. Nice shot, though. 

Good angle. Very tasteful, despite the lighting.

He smirks, dropping onto his lap.

“This isn’t funny, Ben.”

“Kylo.”

“I don’t care.  Just stop doing it!  Primaries are in two months!”

Ah.  Now he understands.  Can’t have her shame child acting up in the public eye when public opinion actually matters, now can we?  He feels bitter gall in the back of his throat, swallows it back down with the ease of long practice.  Instead, he reaches for a cigarette, the pack on the bedside table.  Lighting one up, he puffs a few times, letting his mother stew.

“Well, if you’d let me go to the lesser known places, which are more discrete, this wouldn’t be a problem.  Oh, wait.  The charming body guard you hired, while hung, can’t keep an acceptable eye on me there, riiiiiiight.”

That bit about Guich being hung was a lie, but it sent color into Leia’s cheeks, which was good enough.

“Goddammit, Ben-“

“Kylo.”

“I don’t give a good goddamn!  I didn’t hire Guich so you could add him to your notch-riddled bedpost!”

Leia’s face has started to flush, just a little.  Kylo knows that’s the most he’ll ever get out of her for a little stunt like this.  If he wants full nuclear, diddling the staff won’t cut it.  Instead, he makes a show of eyeing his bedposts in a considering fashion.

“You know, I’ve always thought that was a pointless endeavor, but maybe I should start making a notch for every-“

“Like you could even count that high, kid.”

Kylo feels himself tense, hates himself for it.  Dameron has come back into the room, PDA in one hand, Leia’s outside coat in the other.  Kylo makes himself stretch seductively.

“Well, hello~, Poe.  Care to join me?”

Dameron isn’t even glancing at him as he helps Leia into her coat.

“Senator, we have about three minutes until we absolutely must leave to meet Admiral Thrawn.”

“Thank you, Poe.  Ben-”

Kylo watches her, letting the silence stretch.

And stetch.

And stretch.

Leia sighs, shrugging her shoulders to adjust the fit of her coat.  With a shake of her head, she continues,

“You won’t be going out tonight.  A new guard will be here by tomorrow, but think of this as-“

“You must be joking!” Kylo snaps, sitting up suddenly.  Cigarette ash drops onto his stomach, and he savors the small sting, even as he deposits the cigarette into the ash tray on the bedside table.

“I am not joking, I assure you.  Think of this as consequences for your actions.  If you wouldn’t keep getting your guards to quit, or making me fire them, you would currently have a guard, and would be able to go out tonight.”

“Don’t act like my sex life-”

A knock on the door interrupts the impending shouting match.

“Excuse me, Senator, the car is here-oh, sorry!”

Poe’s newest intern has poked her head inside, and quickly realized her error.  She flushes, mutters another apology and begins to back out of the room.

“No, not at all.  Thank you for the timely reminder, my dear.  Let’s go, Poe.  And Ben.”

She stops at the door, turning around to pin him with a gimlet stare.

“So help me, if you leave the grounds tonight for anything other than an _actual emergency_ , I will kick you out.”

Kylo huffs.

“So, what, I’m _grounded_ , now?”

“Exactly.” Leia says as the door shuts firmly behind her, just in time for the ash tray Kylo threw to smash against it.

* * *

 

Hux is on time.  The Senator, however, is another matter.  He’d been sipping tea and making painful small talk to both her husband, the disreputable , but apparently charming, Han Solo, and her ragamuffin intern, who stands in the corner looking like a deer caught in the head lights. 

It has been half an hour of the most awkward discourse he has had to endure since he tried online dating in his late twenties. Hux knows they’re trying not to stare at the eye patch.  He gives both of them  a sliver of credit for trying.

“So, Mr. Hux, d’you like bikes?  You look like a bike man to me, all tough and wearing leather.”

Hux passes a hand over his jaw, eyes the window across the room and thinks about just throwing himself out of it.  He’s sure that’s not supposed to be a pick-up line, but it certainly sounded like one.  He takes another sip of, admittedly excellent, tea to cover any smart remarks he might make.

“I've more a preference for automobiles, Mr. Solo.”

“Ack, no.  Han, please.  Mr. Solo was my father.”

Solo waggles his eyebrows in a charming manner, and Hux pretends that his grease stained shirt isn’t open two buttons more than is strictly appropriate.  It _is_ a nice view. 

However, Hux also recognizes the ploy.  He has done some serious research into the Organa-Solos since Phasma had shown up on his doorstep, and he knew that while Han Solo looked like a useless arm-candy trophy husband, he was actual far more devious.

 Hux is almost impressed, actually.  He doubts Senator Organa’s opponents even realize how well they’re played.  He also wouldn’t be surprised if some of their jewels made an… _unrelated_ appearance in Solo’s pockets at the same time.  The man looked just shifty enough to pull it off.

Solo is still talking, though, so Hux tunes back in for a moment.

“-now, the Z800 from Kawasaki, that’s decent.  Good turn radius, good balance.  Nice lines, although not the best, if you know what I mean…”

Another eyebrow wiggle, dashing and very charismatic.  Neither man is expecting the intern in the corner to speak up.

“Actually, Mr. Solo, the Indian Scout Sixty has better mileage, and the hand brake is less likely to stick after a gear change.  Also, while they still have the original Scout, this Sixty has a slightly downsized motor.  It’s a vast improvement over what the brand used to manufacture, for certain, and while it isn’t as flashy as the imports, it’s more classical American in style, and-oh, I’m sorry.  Nevermind!”

There is a moment of silence as the two men stare at the young woman, who is getting redder in the face as the moments pass, and looking like she’d appreciate it if the ground would just split open and swallow her whole right that instant.  Solo takes a swig of his bourbon, considers the intern, and then breaks into a boyish grin, completely at odds with his earlier faux-seductive demeanor.

“Polaris hasn’t made a decent bike in ages, kid.  You can’t tell me that they’ve in any way managed to match the original Scout.”

“Well, the Sixty is like a younger cousin to the Scout.  It’s still got the power, in so far as the 60 cubic motor and one less gear allows.”

“You don’t say?”

Hux very quickly finds himself forgotten as the two gear-heads begin to bond in a language he speaks only the rudiments of.  He is, therefore, extremely grateful when Senator Organa makes a mercifully swift appearance.  She takes one look at her husband and intern with their heads together, and rolls her eyes.

“Shop talk somewhere else, you two.  Mr. Hux and I have business to attend to.”

Solo laughs, catches the intern by the elbow when she makes a move to scamper.

“You got it, Your Highness.  C’mon kid, let me show you the garage.  Maybe if Chewie likes you, he’ll let you take a peak under the Falcon’s hood.”

Solo drops a kiss on Senator Organa’s cheek on his way out the door.

“Doesn't so much as twitch under fire, this one.” He says, nodding in Hux’s direction.  Then he’s out the door.  Hux and Senator Organa hear them as the door closes.

“What’d you say your name was, kid?”

“I-I’m Rey.  Rey Kenobi!”

There is silence for a moment as the Senator pours herself a cup of tea.  She regards Hux cooly over the rim as she takes a sip.  He meets her eyes squarely, feeling much like he did meeting upper brass for debrief on a difficult mission.  He watches her linger on the patch for a moment, and then dismiss it.

Whatever she’s looking for, she seems to find it, for she puts the cup back down on the table, then folds her hands in her lap.

“So, tell me, General.  What drives a highly decorated upper-officer with a rising career to resign so suddenly?”

So she’s read his file.  Is she expecting him to be rattled?  Hux would have been disdainful if she hadn’t.

“Personal reasons, Senator.”

“I see.”

There is another silent stare down, with Hux wondering when exactly she’s going to get to the point.  Neither of them have all day for this, and pretending otherwise is pointless.  Rather than showing her his frustration, which is what she wants, he mildly takes another sip of his own tea.

“You’re quite cool under pressure, aren’t you?”

“Ma’am, you’ve read my file.  Let’s not pretend otherwise.  To do so wastes both of our time.  So you know I am a retired member of Special Ops, with plenty of experience.”

Senator Organa raises an eyebrow, looking for one moment so shockingly like Phasma, Hux is tempted to laugh.  Instead, he continues, calm and steady.

“You also know from the undoubtedly thorough background check you conducted the moment I came under consideration that I have no ties with your enemies.   Therefore, you have already concluded my motives for pursuing this position are, if not pure, then at least benign.  If you must have a verbal statement, I am here for the compensation.  Now, what must be decided is whether or not you wish to contract me into your employ or not.”

There is the slightest curling of a smile on Senator Organa’s lips.  She’s known to be a great fan of logic, and Hux is hoping that preference will eventually win out over whatever fanciful idea of testing him seems to have taken hold.

She examines her manicure minutely for a moment, and then nods.

“Very aptly put, Mr. Hux.  I am looking for someone with just your particular skills to protect that which is dearest to me.  However, I wanted to be sure you were ably equipped to handle Ben’s… _proclivities_.  One of which is aggravating every human within a twenty-foot radius to homicidal intent.  Myself, included.”

“Ah.”

“Indeed.  I do hope you can forgive the necessary ruse, as Ben has been through six guards in as many months.”

“Any particular reason for my predecessors’ departures?”

“Take your pick.” The senator remarks dryly, reaching to take another sip of tea, “Some he’s slept with, which wouldn’t be an issue so long as the guard remains undistracted.  Which is never the case.  Some he’s gotten so badly injured, they’ve been unable to return to work.  Still others he has put into one situation or another until they become one of the individuals with homicidal intent.”

Hux digests this for a moment.  The senator continues, ticking off her fingers.

“He is bratty, insubordinate, aggressive, arrogant, entirely manner less, lacking in all empathy and self-preservation, and to top it off, never outgrew the child’s tantrums the rest of us abandoned as toddlers.”

He finds it peculiar that a woman who claimed the man she is describing is the most important thing in her world is able to list so many faults in so quick a succession.  But it isn’t his place to judge family disfunctionality. 

“Am I to take this litany as the sign that I’m hired, Senator?”

“We both know you are.  Let’s not, as you put it so frankly, ‘waste both of our time’.”

Hux has had enough of this nonsense.

“Then perhaps I should meet my charge, Ma’am.  I am sure your schedule is, undoubtedly, busy.”

Senator Organa opens her mouth, probably about to call him to task for insolence, when a handsome man pokes his head into the parlor after a quick, cursory knock.

“Senator, we’re due at Mr. Binks’ garden party in an hour, and Ms. Sella is waiting to debrief you on the new gun proposals, as well.”

“Kriff!”

The senator actuals leaps to her feet, surprising Hux into following suit, one hand reaching for the knife in his sleeve.  She regards his for a moment, and then actually smiles.  It transforms her whole face.  For a moment, Hux can only appreciate how lovely she is.

“Oh, I think you’re going to do just fine, Mr. Hux.  You’ll find Kylo upstairs.  One of the maids will show you to your rooms, and make arrangements for any affects you’d like brought by.  Poe will discuss salary and other pertinent details with you.  Please, have a lovely day, and thank you for taking the position.”

Her hand shake is brief, but strong.  Then she’s out the door, leaving behind her assistant, apparently by the name of Poe.  He’s holding a stack of paperwork that is thicker than the standard W2 packet ought to be.

“Senator Organa requires a confidentiality agreement, as well as certain personal information of all her employees, Mr. Hux.” Poe says when he catches Hux’s look.  He moves toward the sofa the senator has so recently vacated, producing a pen from seemingly nowhere.

“Shall we?”

“Kriff.” Hux echoes.

* * *

 

Kylo is sitting in a decimated wing-back chair.  It’s half-broken from some rage he had.  Can’t even remember what about anymore.  He’s been steadily smoking through another pack of cigarettes for the last half-hour.

He’s also heard all the moving in noises down the hall.  He knows Leia had found a new ‘bodyguard’ for him.

He snorts.

Bodyguard…more like overly-muscled nanny.  Keep the brat in another room where we can’t hear him screaming.

Kylo lets out a stream of smoke at the ceiling.  He’s splayed, rather than sitting, half-dressed on purpose. 

Waiting for the moment the new guard will come and introduce themselves.  He wants to get the seduction started early this time.  Guich wasn’t nearly satisfying enough.

Almost as if he’d summoned them with his thoughts, there’s a knock on the door.  A moment later, Dameron pokes his insufferable head into the room.  His expression doesn't change when he notices Kylo, he just opens the door wider.

“He’s here.  Come in.”

The figure who follows Dameron has Kylo nearly chocking on a fresh inhale.  He hides it by shifting, like that was all he meant to do.  This new guard is… striking.

The man is dripping menace and competence from his perfectly slicked back red-hair to the tips of his well-shined dress shoes.  He’s slim, for a professional, and he has an eye-patch over his right eye.  The remaining one is an icy blue, staring Kylo down. 

Kylo blows out the smoke he’s been holding steadily, knowing exactly how he looks.  His hair is tousled, and the eyeliner is faintly smudged from the night before last.  He’s not wearing a shirt. Just a feathered overcoat that makes his abs look like sin.  He’s wearing pants, barely.  They’re not zipped all the way or buttoned.  The entire ensemble makes him look even taller than he actually is, something dark and mysterious.

“Mr. Solo, this is your new bodyguard, Mr. Brendol Hux.” Dameron says, not even pausing.  Kylo takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Sir.” Brendol Hux says, standing at an abbreviated parade rest, hands folded in front of him.  Kylo feels a shiver in the base of his spine at the coolness of tone.  It works its way up and across his shoulders.  Suddenly, he’s glad for the coat, which covers his reaction.

“A pleasure, I’m _sure_.” 

 

* * *

Just a quick note: Half the information of the motorcycles Han and Rey discuss is true. The other I completely made up. But which half? -evil cackle-

 


	2. Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux realizes that when someone says Ren has 'discipline issues', it is a gross understatement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few things in this chapter that my be trigger issues for some readers. I tried to tag it as best I could, but it's hard to do that without incorrectly representing stuff. Scroll down to the notes at the end of the chapter if you aren't sure and want to check. Take care of yourself before anything else!
> 
> Also, I'm so sorry. All I can say is that Kylo is an asshole.

The establishment is crowded.  The music is loud, mixing more genres than Hux thinks any one song should contain.  The air is smoke-laden in the way only a bar for the ridiculously wealthy could be.

Or, lounge, he supposes.

He is leaning against a garish marble column, watching gaudily dressed individuals flit and flirt to the music like over-achieving butterflies.  Or perhaps they are flowers, of a more parasitic nature.  He’d once had the dubious pleasure of smelling a _Rafflesia arnoldii._   The cloying cloud of blended perfumes certainly puts up stiff competition.

Through the smoke, he catches a glimpse of his new… _charge_.

Ben Organa-Solo ( “Call me Kylo Ren”) is sitting in a booth with three other degenerate individuals.  All are of the same disgustingly pampered variety as his over-sized burden, although less likely to cause any difficulties.  Even if they _were_ , Hux can be across the room in enough time to diffuse any rising situation.

Ren is reclining against velvet cushions, a hookah pipe in his mouth.  He laughs at something a companion says, and then glances his way.  They are discussing him, Hux knows.  So long as the talk does not result in any stupid attempt to leave his protection, they may continue to so.  The moment Kylo pushes the line, Hux will have him back in the car before the brat can take a last huff.

Ren stares at him for a moment longer, his eyes dark and mysterious.  The liner makes them doubly so.  Hux in unimpressed.  The tantrum Ren had thrown before they left had been enough to dispel any image Hux might have had other than an over-grown brat who could benefit from some corporal punishment.

* * *

 

_“This is a disgrace!  Who the fuck do you think you are?!”_

_There is a loud crash against the wall nearest to Hux.  Sounds like something extremely expensive. It is accompanied by a terrified screech that has him on his feet, pistol in his hand in an instant.  His suite and Ben’s connect through a door, which he strides toward, and burst through, gun at the ready._

_What the hell…?_

_The scene before him is some jeering mockery of danger.  There are clothes are all sorts scattered about, mostly in different shades of black.  The scent of cigarettes is still strong in the air, and one is burning a small hole into the carpet near the shattered remains of an ashtray by his feet._

_A maid is cowering, hands over her head, a laundry basket upended at her feet.  Towering over her is Ben Solo, sans shirt and barefoot.  The man is paused, with his hand half-way through a down-swing.  Both he and the maid are staring at Hux in surprise, as though someone being alarmed by screaming and breaking items is unusual._

_After taking a moment to asses that there are no assailants intent on harming his charge, Hux puts his gun back in his shoulder holster, taking care to flip the safety back on. Steps on the burning cigarette to put it out.  Then he turns his gaze on Solo, who drops his hand, still staring._

_“What,_ exactly _, is going on here?”, Hux asks, his voice clipped and cold.  A throw back to his command days._

_“This doesn’t concern the hired help. Shoo.” Solo sneers. He raises his hand again at the maid, who gives another shriek as he brings his hand down.  The slap is startlingly loud in the quiet space.  Hux notices Ren holds a pair of trousers in his other hand._

_Leather._

_Or they used to be.  Apparently the maid had made the mistake of putting them in the washing machine and drier, rather than steaming them.  From the look of them, they were one of those ridiculous brands worth more than his monthly benefits.  They were now discolored, flaking, and in one prominent spot, sporting a burn hole._

_Hux takes a minute to fully absorb the sheer satirical value of this whole tableau.  Surely Solo had a half-dozen other pairs?  Surely he could just buy more?  Hux feels a headache brewing in his temples as Solo continues to rail at the poor creature in front of him.  He has no problem for discipline when it’s warranted, but physically assaulting a staff member?  For a simple mistake?  It was also apparently common enough here that no-one else had bothered to investigate the sounds of the current altercation._

_Hux pinches the bridge of his nose, silently cursing Phasma six ways from Sunday at the predicament she’s gotten him into._

_Baby-sitter, indeed._

_Solo’s hand is rearing back again, and Hux has had quite enough of this entire pageant of idiocy.  He seizes the descending wrist in his left hand.  Solo swings his head around to stare at him with what Hux can only term as incredulity.  That surprise quickly morphs into a very ugly look of rage._

_“How dare you!  Release me this instant, you boot-licking sycophant.  I’ll have your head for this!” Hux doesn’t bother to respond.  Instead, he looks at the crying maid, who is now sitting on the floor, trying to muffle her sobs._

_“Go.” he informs her coldly. She stares up at him, hiccupping pathetically.  There’s a hand-print on her cheek, and it’s already starting to bruise, evident even beneath her dark skin.  Hux feels a tiny squeeze of pity.  One did not hit non-combatants without cause, in his mind.  He also doesn’t approve of bullying people just because they couldn’t fight back.  He finds such antics tiresome as well as pointless._

_A flailing hand catches the edge of his jaw, and he reacts without thought. Just muscle memory._

_He twists the wrist he has already in his grip up behind Solo’s back, and then kicks his knees out from under him.  He follows through, forcing the other man down until his charge is flat on the floor, chest down, with Hux kneeling in his legs to keep him from kicking._

_He spears the now-quiet maid with a glare._

_“Do not make me repeat myself.”_

_It comes out sharper than he means it to, but it serves the purpose he intended.  Eyes huge, the woman scrambles to her feet, seizes the laundry basket, and scuttles out the door.  It slams shut behind her._

_Solo, meanwhile, is struggling against his grip.  His free hand flails, trying to get any sort of hold on Hux, who finds the entire performance deplorably pathetic in the extreme.  Epithets, swear words, and threats spill from his lips in a high-pitched litany._

_Hux simply tightens his hold on the other wrist, and twists it almost to the breaking point.  Solo flails harder for a moment and then goes still, shuddering.  Hux ignores the tiny flutter low in his belly._ Disciplining an over-grown child was quite different for disciplining an errant partner _, he silently informs his libido._

_“If you are_ quite _finished with your little temper-tantrum, let us set a few things straight.”_

_Solo erupts into another round of curses and other repetitive vocabulary.  Hux lets him carry on for a moment or so, and then gives the wrist he still holds a tight jerk.  The threats ends on a mewl._

_“While I understand disciplining staff for a careless error, I draw the line at physically striking them.  If I see such behavior again, or if I become aware of it, you will receive the same treatment, scaled down to befit the child you are-”_

_“Oh, fuck you.  Don’t act like this means anything to you, you ginger bitch!”_

_Hux rolls his eyes.  He gives Solo’s wrist another twitch in the wrong direction._

_“I’ve heard every possible variant of insult deriding from my coloring, and unless you can think of something original, which I most sincerely_ doubt _, you will hold your tongue.”_

_“Oh yeah?  You and what army-_ OW _!”_

_“At this rate, your wrist will be broken, and I will simply have to start on the other one.  Do not interrupt me again.”_

_Hux pauses a moment.  While Solo’s back is heaving with exertion, he says nothing more.  Hux also pretends not to notice the fine tremor running through his prisoner.  He spares a moment to push his hair back out of his face with his other hand._

_“Very good.” He says into the silence, and has to more firmly ignore the stronger shudder that ripples under his hand._

_“So long as I am your guard, there will be no more of this violence.  If you want to scream and rage like a petulant child, I will treat you like one.  Above all, you never put your hands on my person without express direction. Is that clear?”_

_Solo pants into the floor, shaking softly.  Hux can tell there will be bruises on his wrist, and very likely his knees as well.  He can’t bring himself to be sorry._

_But the silence is stretching too long._

_“I said,_ is that clear _?”_

_“…Yes…” Solo whispers to the floor.  It comes to Hux muffled, but he hears it. Instantly, Hux releases Solo’s wrist, letting it drop to the floor.  He reaches out, hesitates, and then places his hand briefly on the younger man’s head._

_“Very good, Mr. Solo.”_

_Hux removes his hand, stands.  He’s moving back toward his room when a small voice stops him._

_“Kylo.”_

_He turns back.  Solo is curled up in almost a fetal position, holding his bruised wrist up to his face with something like fascination in his eyes. Hux is not aroused at the possibility.  He’s_ not _._

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_Solo doesn’t look at him, just keeps focusing on tracing the red marks of Hux’s fingers._

_“My name is Kylo Ren. Don’t call me Mr. Solo.  Or Ben.”_

_Hux is silent.  It seems to make Solo nervous, because he bites out,_

_“…please…”_

_Hux is getting too old for this shit.  He sighs, turns back toward his rooms._

_“Very well,_ Ren _.  Notify me when you are ready to depart.”_

_He shuts the door very gently behind him._

* * *

 

A body bumps into his.  On instinct, he reaches for their arm, about the twist it behind them.  The overwhelming sense of booze has him guiding them roughly away from his person, rather than breaking their radius and ulna.  He glances up, and Ren is watching him with hot eyes.

He gazes back flatly.  Ren lifts the mouthpiece with his left wrist, where livid bruises shaped like Hux’s fingers show sharply against the pale skin.  Even as his stomach swoops, Hux’s face remains impassive, and Ren seems to lose interest.

The hours tick down slowly.  Hus shifts from foot to foot as they start to ache.  He’s expecting Ren to try and sneak off any time now, probably for a tryst.  Hux isn’t looking forward to the unavoidable voyeurism his job is going to require at some point.  Might as well get used to it.

To his (internal) surprise, Kylo approaches him some time around three in the morning. 

“Let’s go.” He says, and Hux holds out his coat for him to step in to.

If you could call this ridiculous thing a coat.

It’s more a cape than anything, and made of actual fur.  Since Senator Organa is part of the anti-fur legislation movement, Hux can only assume this is another rebellion on the part of her son.  He ignores the way Ren slithers backward.  Ignores how Ren purposefully brushes his shoulders against Hux’s fingers.  Ignores the heated glance from under sooty lashes.

Hux does not do spoiled brats.  No matter how pretty they might be.

Instead, face glacial, he steps back a pace.  Ren pouts out of the corner of his eye, and he fights the urge to sigh.  This, exactly, was his point.

He trails after Ren, one step off his right shoulder, as his charge makes his way toward the door. Tries not to shift impatiently every time Ren stops to  speak to a man at this table for a few moments; a woman in that booth.  He could see both of Ren’s parents in him as his behavior shifted from encounter to encounter.

At one spot, he smiles slowly, seductively.  Runs a hand down the shoulder of a well-built blonde.  Drops a joking innuendo that made the whole gathering laugh.

In another he is cool, almost calculated.  His smile becomes sharp enough to cut diamond.  Hux feels his eyebrows rise as Ren spends nearly fifteen minutes discussing the ins and outs of the newest model of Audi roadster.  He seems to know a little bit about every topic that comes up, without divulging any sort of opinion one way or the other.

It was…fascinating, to say the least.

“You’re very good at that.” Hux murmurs as they step out into the quiet street in front of the lounge.  The bouncer gives them a quick once over, and turns back to his phone.  Ren glances at him at the limo pulls smoothly forward.

“Oh?  Good at what?” he asks, still gazing at the uninterested bouncer.

His tone is coy, but his eyes are entirely serious.  Hux debates for a moment whether he wants to fuel Ren’s child ego, and then mentally shrugs.

“You’re surprisingly good with people…when you want to be.”

Ren’s answering smile is slow, and extremely suggestive.  He steps forward, into Hux’s space.  Wraps Hux’s tie around one finger.  Does not actually physically touch _Hux_ in any way.

“Oh, I’m very good with certain people. Especially if they ask very, very nicely.”

“How lucky, then, that my manners have suddenly deserted me.” Hux informs him, detangling Ren’s fingers from his tie.  Ren blushes, and clambers swiftly into the open limo.

“Good thing I wasn’t asking you, you mean!  Like you could appreciate my subtlety.”

Hux slides in behind him, taking the opposite seat.

“Be careful about using words you don’t understand.  Your brain will overheat from the abuse.”

Ren gapes at him for a moment, obviously unsure how to respond to such a comment.  After a moment, his mouth closes, then curves into a wicked smile.  Turning his head, he addresses the driver.

“You know what, Jessica?  I’m not as tired as I thought.  Take us to Finalizer.”

Hux just barely suppresses the urge to sigh.

* * *

It is crowded in the extreme.  Ren simply strolls up to the door, and the bouncer opens the velvet rope without a single comment.

If the lounge had been butterflies at leisure, _Finalizer_ was a hornet’s nest.  He can barely move without shoving someone.  The dance floor looks like a single being in the strobe lights, moving and grinding to the bass line.  Roiling, buzzing, angry music assaults Hux’s ears.  He feels it deep in his chest, and for a moment, he swears he can hear shells, the explosions and screams of an open fire-fight. 

Someone bumps into his shoulder, sending him spinning.  This time, he’s too lost in the sudden sound of people screaming as bullets hit their flesh to react. 

A flash of blonde at the corner of his right eye…Phasma?  Mitaka lugging an M26 as they press the enemy line.  Another shove, to the opposite shoulder.  Who wants him to move?  Have they been compromised? That sudden flash of light in his eyes, is that a grenade?

No.

Closing his eyes, Hux takes a shuddering breath.  In, one two three.  Out, one two three.  Shakes his head in an attempt to clear it.

 No, that eye doesn’t work anymore.  He’s not in Cambodia, he’s in Washington D.C.  There are no enemy agents.  No more field work.

Glass shatters nearby, someone screams high with mirth.  He spins toward it, reaching for a blade.  Sees Ren standing on the bar, holding a second glass and missing his shirt.  As Hux watches, Ren drains this glass and drops it to the floor with its mate.  Accepts a third from someone below him.

Hux takes another shuddering breath, frantically scanning the crowd to be sure he hadn’t missed a threat during his…lapse.  When he is sure that no threat lurks in the shadows, intent on harming his charge, he seeks a wall close by, puts his back to it.

Slowly, he breathes like his therapist taught him.  In and out, counting the span of each.  He catalogs sounds, the smell of smoke and sweat and alcohol.  Focuses on the pressing heat of the club, the shine of his charge’s skin.

He can do this.  He can do this.

Up on the bar, Ren is now doing body shots, shooting Hux a satisfied smirk through the press of eager bodies.

* * *

 

Hux drags Ren up the silent stairs of the Organa mansion.  His burden is groaning in his ears, feet wobbling in the exact opposite of a straight line.  Hux hauls the man into his suite.  He’ll dump him in his own bed, let him sort himself out.   

Ren gives a pitiful moan.

“Think ’m gonna –“

Hux does not even give Ren time to finish.  He whisks him into the bathroom and gets the lid of the toilet up just in time for Ren to unload some of the alcohol he had consumed over the last few hours.  It’s not a pretty return journey.

 He considers leaving him there.  He’s tired, his feet hurt, and he still has ghosts running around inside his brain.  The other man should be fine.  Hux will leave some water and headache pills out for him, and then go to bed.

Then he makes the mistake of looking at him.

Ren curls protectively over the bowl of the commode, hugging it as he heaves probably half his poisoned intestines out.  His hair is in disarray, his makeup smeared beyond salvage.  There are noticeable tears at the corners of his eyes.

In short, he looks like the most pathetic thing Hux had ever beheld in his life in this moment.  He also looks like he expects to be left to his lonely misery.  Hux huffs out an aggravated breath.

“Ah, shit.”

He swiftly strips off his coat, tosses it out onto the back of the settee in the other room.  His gloves he strips off and stuffs in a pocket.  Then he rolls up his sleeves, crouches down, and pulls Ren’s hair back from his face.  Ren startles, and then groans, thumping his head onto the toilet seat in misery.

“Go’way.” He slurs into the echoing bowl.

“Shut up, you goddamn idiot.  It’ll be my head if you drown.”

“Sounds like a goo’idea.”

“You should have thought of that before you threw your little hissy fit at Finalizer.  You reap what you sow, you brat.”

Despite his cruel words, Hux’s hands are gentle of Ren’s scalp.  He holds his hair, rather than pulling it.  Ren opens his mouth to answer, and ends up in another round of worship to the porcelain god.  Hux wrinkles his nose at the growing smell of vomit, but uses his other hand to rub Ren’s back in slow circles.  He also ignores the little whimper Ren utters. 

They’re both enjoying another moment of peace when Hux’s phone buzzes in his pocket.  He glances at the clock as he pulls it out, gives an internal wince at the bright 6:23 A.M. it’s displaying over Phasma’s face. Ren is startled into another vomiting fit as Hux swipes the accept call button. 

“Phasma, it’s six-thirty in the _goddamn_ morning.  What do you want?”

“Just checking to see how you’re settling in with the little hell-beast.  The first twenty-four hours are apparently the hardest, or so I’ve heard.”

Ren gives another extremely loud retch.

“You don’t say.” Hux says through gritted teeth.  There is a significant pause on the other end of the line.

“Is that who I think it is?”

“No, it’s my newest lover- _of course_ it is.  Who else would I be around that’s vomiting at this time of day?”

Phasma starts laughing.  Hux has to pull his ear away from the phone to protect it from the explosive blast of sound.  It makes an irritating counterpoint to Ren’s continued sickness. 

He gives her thirty seconds to calm down, and then tries to talk over her.

“Shut up.  This is your fucking fault.  Damn it, Eleanora, _stop laughing_.”

She’s still going, only spurred on by Hux’s irritation.

“Was there some sort of _actual_ purpose to this call, or were you just looking for some early entertainment?”

“Ahaha, oh, oh fuck, I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. Ha. Thank you for that, Bren.”

He gives the phone the nastiest look he can muster in his exhausted state.

“So pleased to be of service.”

“Anyway, hahah, hoo boy, I really am calling to see how you’re settling in.  This is the only time I have all day.  Didn’t realize the little prince would want to party that hard so soon.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, look at it this way.  With this memory, you won’t be the least bit tempted to sleep with him.  Unlike some of the others.”

Ren has ceased retching, and Hux is fairly sure he doesn’t have anything left in his stomach to bring up onto Hux’s suit if he moves him.  Tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder, he hauls Ren up, over to the sink.

Turning on the faucet, he lets the other man clean out his mouth while he searches for some sort of pain medication.

“Certainly a point in my favor, I suppose.  Although we already had to have a discussion about boundaries.”

 He finds it when he glances into the bedroom. The bottle is sitting on the bedside table next to a pack of cigarettes and an empty glass.  Leaving Ren leaning against the sink, Hux fetches both the pills and the glass.

“Oh?  And the brat’s still breathing?  Does he realize how lucky he is?”

Hux fills the glass from the faucet, and then shakes out two capsules into his hand.  Glancing at Ren’s clammy face, he tips out a third.  Hands both the medicine and the water over.

“I am sure he’s aware that my continued employment requires his continued existence.  Whether he realizes to what extent that protects him, I cannot say.  He’s not the brightest pupil of life.”

“Fuck you.” Ren slurs weakly as Hux half-walks, half-carries him to the bed.  He drops Ren unceremoniously onto the covers, rolls him onto his belly, and reaches around to pull his boots off.

“Lucky little fruit-loop, is what he is.”

“Are you actively trying to come up with evermore ridiculous monikers, or is that just me not having slept in nearly twenty-four hours?”

“To use a phrase you would understand: _indeed_.  Also, does a vomiting whack-a-doodle somehow do it for you?”

Hux pauses where he’s wrestling with a stubborn zipper, panting from exertion.  Were the damn things super glued on?

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, nothing.  Just sounds like you’re having lots of fun on your end.  I figure the moaning will start any second now.”

“Oh, bugger off.” He snarls into the phone, and hangs up as aggressively as he can on a smart phone.  It’s times like this he misses the older flip models.  The snap of closing the phone was so much more satisfying.

He finishes getting Ren sufficiently undressed to avoid complaint, and then fetches more water from the bathroom. He leaves the glass on the bedside table, moves to leave.

 But he hesitates, turns around.  Before he can second guess himself,  he pulls the duvet up and over the already passed out Ren.

Then, before his thoroughly exhausted brain can comprehend what he’d done and why, he escapes to his room.

* * *

 

He wakes slowly, rising from black sleep like a drowning man.  His head feels like someone is hammering away from the inside.  An asshole with an ice pick is trying to tunnel out through his right eye.  He’d left the curtains open before he left last night, so sunlight spills mercilessly onto his face.  With a muffled yelp-groan, Kylo rolls onto his other side, pulling the duvet all the way over his head.

Wait.

The duvet?

He always wakes up the morning after a bender either wrapped around the toilet, or if he was very lucky, on top of his bed covers.  What was he doing…?

OH…

Last night is coming back to him in flashes.  Hookah at the lounge, Hux’s cold eyes on him for hours, flirting and getting shot down, Finalizer, throwing his guts up sometime around dawn-

Hux’s fingers, surprisingly gentle in his hair, smoothing along his back.

Kylo knows his ability to remember everything after a heavy bender is weird.  But he does.  While the memories might be fuzzy around the edges, and less important details aren’t recorded correctly, he can usually remember the general events of the night before.  So he knows he isn’t dreaming.  He wouldn’t dream something like that anyway.  Softness from the people around him doesn’t happen.  On the rare day he feels remorse, he can even acknowledge that fact is more his fault than not anymore.

_Phantom fingers in his hair, rubbing soothing circles along his back._

He opens his eyes, stares at the opposite wall.  Imagines the red-head on the other side, probably already up and doing something productive.  What time was it anyway?  He rolls over to look at the clock.

2:47 PM.  Not bad, actually.  The nausea part of the hangover equation chooses this moment to make itself known.  Kylo flings his hand out, blindly groping for a cigarette.  He startles a little at the sudden knock on the door.  It opens, and his mother’s new intern pops her head inside.

“Oh, uh, good morning.” She _chirps_ , like some sort of terrifyingly perky human-bird hybrid, “ Senator Organa wanted to make sure you got breakfast…or, lunch, I guess, and none of the staff had time, which is weird…so I said I’d bring it to you.  I’m sorry if I woke you!”

She comes right in, carrying a tray full of covered dishes that she brings over and puts on his bedside table, moving the glass from last night and his ashtray to the side.  Kylo blinks.  He’s not sure anyone who knows anything about him has ever been this goddamn cheerful in his presence before.

It’s irritating. 

He notices a grease stain on the side of her neat suit, and feels a smirk steal across his face.

“You’ve got a little…something…there on the side of your suit…thing.  Awful sloppy for a senator’s aide, don’t you think?”

Shit, his voice sounds like the human equivalent of a rusty chain saw. The intern doesn’t seem to notice.  Instead, she jumps, spins to look at the stain, and gives a helpless little sigh.

“I knew I should have been more careful in the garage, but Mr. Solo and Mr. Chewbacca were showing me what they’re doing to the Falcon’s engine right now, and it was so interesting-”

Kylo feels ill.  Not just that vague nausea that comes from too much alcohol, but truly, deeply sick to his stomach.  He can taste bile at the back of his throat, mixing with the utter injustice of the whole situation.  His father hasn’t let him so much as _breathe_ in the general direction of his prized DeLorean, much less get a peek under its hood, for more years than he wants to think about.  Uncle Chewie wasn’t much better, always nudging Kylo out of the garage since the incident at Uncle Luke’s old place.  Like Kylo was planning to set fire to the whole place on purpose, or something. 

Luke’s yoga studio had been an accident.  It had!  Kylo had been bored, fooling around with a lighter he’d gotten from another kid at school.  When Luke had come looking for him, he’d stashed the thing in a panic, forgetting it was on…

No one has trusted him since.

But here they were, letting some…some random _nobody_ , have full run of the garage!  Talking, and asking questions, and letting her poke around close enough to get grease stains on her clothes.

The rage is quick.  It bubbles up from his stomach, marches across his spine, blossoms in his chest.  For a moment he thinks he might pick up the tray and just smash her smiling, _still talking_ face with it.  He’s raising a hand to do just that when the bruises from the day before catch his eye.  They are livid, purple and blue, in the shape of firm fingers.  What had Hux said?

_If I see such behavior again, or if I become aware of it, you will receive the same treatment-_

Right.

Well…

There was more than one way to get around that nonsense. 

Quick as a snake, despite his aching head, Kylo grabs the girl’s arm and yanks, spilling her over his lap and into his bed.  He rolls over on top of her, grinning evilly.  Her scream of surprise, while piercing, is exactly what he wants.  He pins her arms over her head. 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, little bird.  Leave this house and run, as far away as you can.  Solo will only disappoint you in the end.”

 Holding her is surprisingly difficult.  She’s all lean muscle under her clothes, and every jerk and jostle is making his headache worse.  Not to mention she is trying very, _very_ hard to knee his balls back up inside his body.  He’d be impressed if he wasn’t trying so hard to keep her from doing it.

“Get the hell off me, you psychotic over-painted freak!  I’ll have your nuts for a necklace!  You will limp for the rest of your miserable waste of a life!  Which I guarantee with be _short_!”

Oh please.  Like he had any interest in some goody-two shoes like her.  He liked his partners much more worldly.  He opens his mouth to tell her that when the door connecting his suite to Hux’s slams open.

Wow…that’s…a lot of bare skin…

And his world explodes with pain.  The not-good kind.

* * *

 

Hux wakes all at once, face-down in his pillow. He’s covered in sweat, his mind filled with the fading rata-tat-tat of machine gun fire and screaming.  Air won’t come quickly enough, leaving him panting, trying desperately to chase the smell of blood from his nostrils.  He can’t figure out what brought this nightmare on until he hears the screaming again.

From Ren’s room.

He leaps out of bed, gun in one hand.  Sprints to the connecting door, and for the second time in twenty-four hours throws it open.

Ren has Rey, the motor-head intern, pinned beneath him on the bed.  Only she seems less than pleased to be there.  Even as they both turn their heads to look at him, her knee takes Ren viciously enough that Hux feels a phantom pain in empathy.  Which is the only empathy Ren will be getting.

As his charge rolls off Rey with a groan of pain to curl into a fetal position, he is crossing the floor with swift strides.  He tucks the gun into the back waistband of his pants, then seizes Ren by the back of the neck with a furious hand.

“ _What in the hell do you think you’re doing_?!” he roars, introducing Ren’s face forcefully to the floor.  It’s carpet again, to his disappointment.  The intern has scrambled off the bed, but rather than fleeing the room, she stands to the side with a fierce look on her face.  Ren struggles, trying to push his face out of the floor.  He doesn’t try to shake Hux off, which strikes the guard as odd.  Especially considering yesterday.  He’s also yelling heatedly into the floor.

“It’s not actually what it looks like!  I was only trying to scare her.  Ow, shit, that hurts!”

Hux forgets himself for a moment and actually bounces Ren’s head against the floor.  Rey’s gasp, and her shout of “Mr. Hux!” rouse him slightly from his desire to beat this man-child within an inch of his life.  He jerks Ren’s head to the side, but otherwise keeps enough pressure to ensure he doesn’t move.

“What, exactly, did you think you were doing?”

Ren glances at him, eyes bloodshot.  He looks absolutely wretched, like he is within an inch of passing out from all the abuse and wrestling.

Good.

“I said, it’s not what you think, you ginger-bitch.”

Hux shakes Ren like he would a misbehaving pup, quick jerks back and forth.  He lets the bastard whimper for a few moments, mostly for the terrifically angry Rey hovering nearby, and then smacks his face back to the carpet.

“And what is it really, you incompetent rapist?”

“That’s not what I was trying to do! Fuck!  I just wanted to scare her off!”

The door to the outer rooms of the suite swings agape.

“What is going on in here?  There are guests downstairs-Rey!”

Poe Dameron comes striding in, rushing to the flustered intern’s side.  Hux glances over, admits to himself she certainly looks rather disheveled.  She, in her part, glares down at Ren.

“What could you possibly have against me, huh?!”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Ren mutters into the carpet.  Her foot shoots out, and Hux barely manages to catch it before it connects to Ren’s face.  He agrees the bastard deserves it, but he also recognizes that there is more going on at the moment than there appeared.  He releases Ren’s neck, steps back to let him sit up.  Crosses his arm over his chest, and then realizes he’s only wearing a pair of sleep pants.  When he catches Dameron and Rey trying not to stare, he also realizes he left his eye patch back in his bedroom.  Irate again, he glares down at Ren.

“Explanation.  _Now_.”

Ren turns a dark shade of red, starting from his cheeks and spreading out to his forehead and down his chest.  Hux begins to tap his foot to indicate his ever shrinking store of patience, and Poe is hugging Rey to him with one arm.  Ren looks down at the floor, mumbles something.

“I beg your pardon?” Hux asks, his tone glacial.  Ren glances up at him, over at the two aides, then back at the floor.

“I said, she got to mess with the Falcon…”

“All this over a bloody car?!” Rey shrills, starting toward Ren again.  This time Dameron intervenes, although grudgingly.

“Just shut up, you goody-two shoes.  The lot of you should know I don’t like girls anyway.”

“Liar.  I’ve had to get rid of your bedmates often enough.”

“Those were women, Dameron, and if you can’t tell the difference, I’m not enlightening you.”

“You mean coked-up drunks who only look your way because you flash your mother’s money.”

Ren slant him a flat look which morphs into a clearly fake smile.

“Exactly.  I don’t do fresh meat.” He gestures at Rey, “Too sweet by half.”

“I’ll show you sweet, you scum-sucking-”

“Like you could ever do as well as Rey, you depraved son-of-a”

“Enough.”

The room falls instantly silent, and Hux spares the shortest possible moment to appreciate that he hasn’t lost his commanding touch.  He jerks his chin at the door.

“Dameron, Take Ms. Kenobi downstairs and get her some tea.  I’ll deal with the brat.”

Poe looks for one moment like he wants to argue, then clamps his mouth shut and starts pulling Rey toward the door.  She does not go quietly.

“Wait, what?  So he’s just going to get away with this like he does everything else?  No! Not this time!  I’ll have him in jail, just see that I don’t!  I’ll-”

“ _That was not a request, Ms. Kenobi_.”

Her eyes grow so round, Hux wonders if they’ll pop right out of her skull.  When Daemron tries to guide her out of the room a second time, she goes without a fuss.  He can hear them speaking quietly until the snick of the closing door leaves him and Ren in quiet. 

Ren has shifted himself until his back is against the bedframe, curled in on himself with his knees to his chest.  Hux regards him silently, waiting for the next outburst.  It takes all of three minutes.

“Oh just go ahead and yell at me, why don’t you?  Get it over with.  I want to go back to sleep!”

Hux’s continuing silence seems to make it worse.  The dark head of ratty curls tilts up, red-rimmed eyes glare at him.

“Well, go on.  Call me the fuck up we all know I am, and then swan out of here.  I haven’t got all day!”

He hauls himself to his feet, gets into Hux’s personal space, their faces only a few inches apart.  Hux is tensed to strike him if a finger so much as makes contact.

“Come on.  You know you want to!  Everyone does!  Go ahead, point out all my flaws.  I’ve heard the list, it’s not like it’ll be anything new!  Well?  Say something, you soulless bastard! Hit me with whatever you got and then just _GO_!  Just like everyone else!”

Ren stops, chest heaving as he gulps in huge lungsful of air.  He looks like nothing so much as a mental patient having an episode.  Hux waits to see if anything else will be forthcoming, and then raises an eyebrow.

“Are you done?”

“Fuck you, you ginger fuck-face!”

Hux back-hands him hard enough that Ren ends up on his bed.  The other man does not move for a moment, then turns back to Hux, licking away the blood trickling from his busted nose.

“Is that all you got?”

For a moment, he considers letting this prissy, over-indulged punk know just how much he’s ‘got’.  Then the cool headed part of him that came from commanding hot-heads on the field of battle asserts itself.  He strangles that urge to violence, takes a long breath.

“No, but I should not even have done that much.”

The admission takes Ren by surprise.  He looks at Hux like a startled deer.  Hux takes a moment to rub his stinging hand, and then steps forward into Ren’s personal space.

“You.  You are a tainted, twisted, cosseted juvenile.  You rage and scream and shout because that is the only way you can get anyone to listen to you anymore.  To take you seriously.  To pay attention to you.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me, Doctor Hux, on all my problems.  Tell me, will you be charging by the hour or by the-”

“Ren, shut up.”

Those dark eyes dart to the floor, back up at Hux, the down again.  But the smart mouth closes.

“Good.”

Another flick of the eyes, some uncomfortable shuffling.

“Now, since you apparently need this spelled out for you: what you have just done is wrong.  Not in the ‘slap a child’s hand because they want something that’s not good for them’ way, but in the ‘you could very easily go to prison for this’ way.  The ‘If Ms. Kenobi chooses to press charges, your mother won’t be able to save you’ kind of way.  The outcome of which you would richly deserve.”

Hux pauses, lets the words sink in as well as they may.

“You have done this incredibly stupid thing to throw a tantrum. Like some wayward five-year-old, rather than a nearly thirty year old adult.  Whatever started it, I don’t care.  I will only make it very clear that this behavior stops. Now.   No more outbursts, no more requiring corporal punishment that is long overdue.”

The tick of a clock somewhere in the room is the only sound in the room other than Hux’s voice.  Ren isn’t even breathing loudly enough for him to hear.

“Take as many bedmates as you like.  But they will be willing, or you will deal with me.  Is that clear?”

“Bedmates?  _Geez_ , how old _are_ you?”

“Ren.”

“You’ve got a lot of rules for an employee, you know that?”

“ _Kylo_.”

Ren stops.  Everything about him seems to freeze, and then he is looking up at Hux like Hux is the sun, and he’s a vitamin-D starved wastrel.

Which he is, but that is beside the point.

“Ok.” He whispers.

Hux nods, then feels supremely uncomfortable with the combined factors of what feels suspiciously like an emotional moment just happened, his state of undress, and the way Ren is looking at him.  He clears his throat. Thinks about leaving.  Reaches out and runs a hand through Ren’s hair wild hair instead.  It is softer than he is expecting.

The other man makes a noise in the back of his throat that is definitely not platonic as his head tilts back into Hux’s palm and his dark eyes drift closed.

“Good.  Get yourself cleaned up and eat something.”

Hux’s words are too gruff by half as he swiftly detangles his fingers , making a beeline for his room.  He doesn’t slam the door, but it’s a near thing.  Leaning back against the rough grain of it, Hux lets out a long breath, staring down at the sudden erection tenting his sleep pants.

“Kriff.” He snarls, and seeks a very long, very cold shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. There's a lot of physical violence in this chapter. Hux smacks Ren frequently, and he man-handles him a couple of times. Like, 'pinned to the floor' kind of man-handling. Ren smacks a maid across the face for something small. This is assault. I know it is, and I'm not going to downplay it just because I love the characters. Kylo is not a good person.
> 
> 2\. PTSD for poor Hux. I sort of blended it with how I experience anxiety attacks. Take it slow, and if it's too much, skip over it. It's character development, but it's not going to impact the story heavily.
> 
> 3\. What I would phrase as innuendo assault. Ren actually has no desire to sexually assault Rey, that is not what he's aiming to do. But he IS trying to make her think that's his plan to scare her off. This isn't an insult to any Reylo shippers. This is just Kylo being a self-entitled asshat. It is very brief, and not only does she get some of her own back, Hux gets some back for her as well.
> 
> That's about it. Sorry, guys. I tried to re-write it three or four times, but Kylo wasn't having it. He wanted his scenes that way, so there we go. If you're all not horrified at me yet, I'll see you next chapter.


	3. For A Good Time Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hux and Ren finally start to get along...sort-of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I found myself a beta. She's rather fabulous, if I may say so. Rebecca, thank you so, so much for all your help with this chapter! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it! She also goes by OTP-Kylux on Tumblr.
> 
> Also, please note that the fic rating has changed. Yeah....-blushes- I went there.

Two weeks pass with what the Senator tells him is unprecedented quiet.  Kylo pitches mild fits, and even then, only one. When Hux’s relief, and Rey’s price for her silence, is introduced.

Finn is a decent young man, as far as Hux can see.  A little eager to please after four years in the Navy, but otherwise a steady soul and a cool head.  

* * *

 

_ You’re asking me to entrust my son’s safety to some wet behind the ears kid with the barest amount of experience?” _

_ Senator Organa’s voice is colder than Hux has ever heard it, either on television or in reality.  She sounds so much like Ren for a moment that he glances at her to be sure she somehow didn’t morph into the female version of her son.  He wouldn’t even put it past her, either. _

_ Rey sits in the chair across from her, arms crossed over her chest, eyes just as cold. Only she is smiling.  Smiling in a way that seems eerily familiar to Hux, although he can’t place where from off the top of his head. _

_ “Senator, I’m not asking.  I’m telling.  If you don’t want me to take your son to court, and then to jail for several years, then you will hire Finn.  Not only will you hire Finn, but you will not fire him unless he truly screws up.  Which he won’t.” _

_ “I will not be bullied by some  _ child  _ who thinks the world will change just because she expects it to!” _

_ Rey raises a single eyebrow, the expression again frustratingly familiar.  Hux wants to shake her by the shoulders, ask where she learned to make that face.  Instead, he admires her refusal to back down, even though Senator Organa is exuding a fearsome aura of rage. _

_ She doesn’t cower, doesn’t flinch.  She just examines the fingernails of one hand, looking for all the world like she’d bored out of her mind with the proceedings. _

_ “Ben will be quite popular in prison, don’t you think?” _

_ “ _ Excuse me _?” _

_ Hux freezes.  She’s not insinuating what he thinks she is?  Looking at her expression, he realizes that she, in fact,  _ is _.  He finds he is fighting a smile that wants to bloom across his face.  Either Senator Organa would murder him or his face would crack in half.  Brilliant. It’s brilliant.  He is in awe of just how deviously awful this child actually is, under all the cheer and optimism.  It is, to his mind, a singularly beautiful notion _

_ Leia seems a great deal less impressed. Granted, it’s  _ her  _ son being threatened.  She’s openly seething now, her hands curled like claws into the arms of her chair.  Dameron hovers on her other side, his worried gaze swinging between one woman and the other.  Hux doesn’t blame him.  This is either going to end in an accord, or a bloodbath.  The silence grows, winding tighter with every passing moment, like a metal coil fast approaching it’s breaking point. _

_ “Are you threatening my son, Ms. Kenobi?” _

_ The women’s eyes clash again, fury an almost visible link between the two. _

_ “Not at all, Senator.  I’m promising.  Promising that if you don’t do what I am asking, I go straight to the press with my story. Doesn’t matter if Mr. Hux has handled it, and we all know it will never happen again.  The Washington Times certainly won’t care.” _

_ “I will  _ fire  _ you, you impudent-” _

_ “Do it, and not only will your son be in jail, but you might just join him!” _

_ “Don’t play games you can’t win, girl.  My son-” _

_ “His behavior is your fault.” _

_ Silence.  Utter, disbelieving silence.  Hux feels his respect for this tiny slip of a girl rise another notch higher.  She would say what no one else would, and the consequences be damned.  Leia visibly deflates.  The tension seems to leave her all at once as she leans back into her seat.  Appearing to have aged ten years in a single moment, she sighs. _

_ “You’re right, damn it.  You’re right, and I am wrong.  Very wrong, to expect you to let this go.  No more should you.” _

_ She sighs again, lifts one hand to cover her eyes. _

_ “Take my advice, Rey, don’t go into politics.  You’re too good for it.” _

_ Rey’s mouth scrunches, her expression one of kind frustration. _

_ “Which means the bad guys always wins.  Someone has to stand their ground.” _

_ Leia, Dameron, and Hux all give simultaneous chuckles of sad amusement.  Hux remembers being that young, thinking he could solve all the world’s problems, so long as he had enough fire and enough will. _

_ “Geez, kid.  You sure are something.” Dameron tells her with a shake of his head.  There is no further discussion.  Finn is hired on the next day. _

* * *

 

Finn doesn’t seem to mind at all that his girlfriend got him the job.  His seeming friendliness toward Kylo also tells Hux Rey did not elaborate on how exactly she secured him such a prime position.  Perhaps Finn does not actually care?

Mentally he shrugs.  Other people’s relationships are not his business.

Until he catches Finn and Poe Dameron in an extremely compromising position one evening on his way to the kitchen.

The two men break apart guiltily, with Finn trying vainly to pull his pants back up even while Dameron is standing on them.

“Uh, this is…I mean, it’s not…well it  _ is _ , but…” Finn sputters, managing to get his underwear all the way up.

“Does Rey know?” Hus asks coolly.  The men exchange perplexed expressions.  Poe raises his eyebrows, Finn shrugs in response.

“Uh…yeah?  She introduced us.  Why?”

Hux can’t keep the skepticism from his voice.

“Your girlfriend knows you’re sleeping with her boss?”

Both men recoil with looks of intense horror.  One would think Hux had asked them to partake of infant flesh, rather than suggest Rey and Finn were romantically entangled.

“What?  Oh, no! Nonononono, Ray and I aren’t dating!  Whoa, man.   _ Poe’s _ my boyfriend!”

He feels his cheeks start to heat at the mistake.  Well, that was cleared up then.

“Well, then.  My mistake.  Excuse me gentleman.”

He moves past them on toward the kitchen, and then says over his shoulder, 

“Although I might recommend somewhere a little less…public…for your next tryst.”

“The gardening shed gave us too many splinters.” He hears Poe mutter as he turns the corner.

* * *

 

Hux follows Kylo as he always does, one step behind. His eyes are always moving, scanning the crowd, watching for any sign of danger.  This lounge is new to him.  A much quieter place that Kylo has ever shown a desire to frequent before.  In fact, if Hux were the kind of man to spend his downtime around people, this is the sort of place he, himself would frequent.

Jazz music alternates with classical from an actual live ensemble.  Cigarette smoke blends with hookah and the scented electrical burner fumes.  It’s a place of tasteful booths and slightly cluttered tables.  The glint of warm yellow light on crystal and marble and wood.  Low conversations in dim corners; whispered invitations into the shell of a lover’s ear.

Kylo winds his way through the crowd slowly, as always.  He is greeting someone in a booth when Hux notices a couple in the one next to it.  At first, he thinks it’s just two lovely women entwined on the velvet cushions.  One is smoking, the other laughing with a glass of something pastel colored in her hand.  Then the blonde meets his eyes, and a jolt of recognition goes through him as she smiles.

“Well,  _ hello~ _ , General.  What a lovely surprise.  Are you actually around people for your night off?”

“Phasma, is there a gun to my head?  No?  Then clearly I’m not here to socialize.”

He’s never seen her like this, in a sleek black suit with no shirt under the deep vee of her blazer. A necklace he vaguely remembers her picking up in a foreign bazaar on an away mission encircles her neck.  She looks like some sort of old fashioned pimp.  It’s a good look for her.   

Hux glances at his arm candy.  Does a double take.  Feels a flush that he hopes neither woman can see steal it’s way across his cheekbones.

“Ms. Kenobi.”

“Hiya, Mr. Hux.”

She’s wearing a barely-there dress of some slinky material, slit all the way to her hips. He has no idea how the top of it is staying up, and he’s not asking.  He’s also not asking about the garters she’s flashing. She has a feather boa around her arms, and one of Phasma’s arms is draped possessively over her shoulder.  One finger strokes slowly up and down her throat, against another necklace that Hux knows is Phasma’s because he watched her buy it.   Of course, Kylo chooses this moment to join him, swanning over to get in his personal space.  He only notices Phasma’s companion when he is half-way through a purred sentence:

“Introduce me to your friend, Hu-shit, not you.”

“Hello, asshole.”

Hux is still looking at Phasma’s arm around Rey’s bare, lovely skin with an internal sense of both irritation and admiration. 

“I  _ wondered _ where you were getting all your inside information from.”

Phasma smirks and leans down to plant a loud kiss of Rey’s cheek.

“What can I say?  I like ‘em sneaky.”

Her eyes slide over to Kylo, scanning him from head to toe.  One blonde eyebrow climbs upward as she gazes down her nose.

“So you’re the loony-spoon who gave both my SO  _ and _ my girl a hard time.  What do you have to say for yourself, you wedge-faced bum?”

Hux waits for the inevitable explosion of epic proportions.  Kylo, however, seemed struck utterly silent, looking between the three of them with both confusion and horror. Under his gaze, Rey turns to nuzzle Phasma’s jaw before taking another sip of her drink.  The look she sends Hux is both apologetic and defiant.

“ _ You know her _ ?”

“I trained her.” Hux says with a sudden and uncontrollable evil grin, “So remember if you give Ms. Kenobi anything other than your best manners from now on, it may not be  _ me _ you will have to answer to.”

Phasma gives a smile that’s all teeth, and Kylo has apparently had enough.  He makes a strangled sort of noise, turns, and bolts for the bar.  Hux sighs.

“I had best go make sure he doesn’t drink himself into a coma this time.  Good evening, ladies.”

He spares a glare for Phasma at her loud whistle and her, “Go get ‘im, tiger!”

It takes him only a moment to catch up to Ren, but in that time, the other man has managed to down two shots and is lifting a third to his lips.  Hux considers letting him do it, but the memory of the last time the brat had drunk himself into a near-coma is still fresh in his mind.  He places a gloved hand over the shot glass.  It takes Kylo a moment to realize this, and Hux ends up with his hand pressed between Kylo’s mouth and the glass.  He firmly ignores both the thought of what the alcohol will do to the leather of his glove, and the warmth of Ren’s mouth.

“If you get piss drunk, I am not carrying you up the stairs this time.  You may spend the night in your own sick on the floor of the atrium for all the staff to see.”

Kylo whirls on him, mouth open to deliver what will probably be a scathing retort.  Hux stares him down, promising silently that if Kylo throws a fit in public, he will not hesitate to discipline him in that same public.  Whatever expression he is making gives his charge pause.  After a brief staring contest, Kylo glances down, at Hux’s mouth, and then away.

He puts the glass back on the bar.

Then he turns his back on Hux and literally  _ slides  _ into the personal space of the man next to him.  Hux hears him purr:

“Hello, gorgeous.  Got a name?”

The man is nothing special.  Small town good looks, with brown hair and the soft-edged features that signaled an oncoming middle-aged paunch.  For now, he’s fit enough.  Broad shoulders, and the stance that says he played football in high school and college, still thinks that makes him a big shot.  Hux has come across a few idiots like him in the Army.  He’d enjoyed grinding them into the dirt on principle.

The man blinks at Kylo like he’s been poleaxed.  Hux can’t really blame him.  Kylo’s top is open down to his navel, looking like the silky fabric will slide off his shoulders completely if he moves the least bit wrong.  His pants might as well have been painted on; they leave that little to the imagination.  There’s a bit of flash hanging from his belly-button, gold and some sort of red gem.  There’s more gold in his ears, around his throat and wrists.  The idiot had even managed to find a way to twine some into his hair.

Hux has been hoping it will tangle and be a pain in the ass to get back out all night.

The Einstein Kylo is hitting on finally seems to remember how to conduct human speech again at last, because he manages to clear his throat and answer the earlier question.

“I-I’m Hank.”

“Hank, hmmm?  Well, darling, how about another drink?”

Kylo shimmies even closer, until their shoulders touch.  Runs his fingers along one beefy arm.  Hank glances at Hux, looking a little like he thinks he’s suddenly the god of all things attractive.

“This ginger bozo bothering you, baby?”

Kylo deigns to glance at Hux, then shrugs.

“No, darling.  He’s just here to make me look important.  But I’d much rather talk about you~.”

Hux is forced to stand for what feels like an hour as Kylo plies his companion with drink after drink.  Hank’s buddies have moved a little further down the bar, but Hux can see them nudge each other and trade off-color comments every time Hank gets a little bolder with his hands, or when Kylo leans a little further over.

Finally, Kylo hooks his fingers in Hank’s belt and drags him rather obviously toward the bathroom.  Hux makes very sure he doesn’t look in Phasma’s direction when she makes a disgusted sound as they pass.  He’s getting paid for this, and since him being here is her fault anyway, she really doesn’t have room to judge.

They pass into the bathroom, Hux just barely making it through the door before Hank closes it and back Kylo up against the wall.  He’s pawing him everywhere, and Hux throttles the urge to break the man’s hands off finger by finger and feed them to him. 

He needs to calm down. 

Kylo is not being harmed.  Is in fact making encouraging noises, especially when Hank gets rough.  He  _ likes _ how hard he’s being gripped and handled.  Wants bruises along his pale limbs.   Hux resigns himself to a stint of voyeurism, and mentally reminds himself that this paycheck is worth it.  Kylo looks at him over Hank’s shoulder as the man mouths along his neck.  He  _ smirks _ , the little shit.

He does not get paid for skinning his charge’s lovers. 

He keeps telling himself this until Hank grabs for Kylo’s crotch, and the sound his charge makes goes from pleased to actually pain.

“Hey,  _ ow _ , easy, darling.  Maul the goods, don’t break them.”

Hank’s response is to slam Kylo hard against the wall, grabbing between his legs again.

“Shut up, bitch.  You like it.”

Kylo is now pushing his would-be lover away be the shoulders.  Twisting his hips to avoid Hank’s groping hands.

“I like a good fuck as much as the next guy, but not when it’s not fun for  _ me _ .  Get off.”

“Don’t be like that, you little whore.”

“I said  _ no _ , you ignorant-”

Hux takes this as his cue, stepping forward and seizing Hank by the back of his neck and the offending hand by the wrist.  With a practiced twist, he wraps the arm behind Hank’s back, turns him, and slams him into the wall.

“I do believe Mr. Ren said no.  This is where you either make your exit gracefully, or I do it for you with a great deal more force.”

“Fuck you, you boot-licking-”

“Forcibly, then.”

Hux slams Hank against the wall once to silence him.  Then he tows him toward the door.  Taking his hand off the man’s neck, he flicks the lock, kicks the door open, and forcibly ejects Hank out onto the floor.  The door closes after him with a firm ‘snick’.

* * *

 

Kylo lets out an explosive sigh.  Drags a hand roughly through his already disordered hair.

“Dammit.  He was totally my type, too.”

“He would be.”

He slants a look at his newly impassive bodyguard.  The man is now standing rigid against the opposite wall, one hand gripping the wrist of the other in front of him.  He’s not even flustered from muscling Kylo’s would-be lover out of the bathroom.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

That blue eye watches him.  The gaze is still cold, but it’s heavier now somehow.  Kylo feels a shiver climb his spine as desire spools hot and weighty in his belly.  Hux doesn’t deign to respond, and Kylo starts to pout.  Then a singularly brilliant idea strikes him.  He wants a reaction from this man.  Any reaction.  So he leans back against the sink, trying to look languid and seductive.

“It’s all your fault, anyway.”, he tells the ginger.

Hux’s eyebrow rises, conveying both contempt and incredulity.

“How do you come to that delusional conclusion?”

That icy tone make Kylo want to needle him more.  Why hadn’t he tried this sooner? He draws his lower lip between his teeth, bites down just sharply enough for it to hurt a little.  

“Well, you scared him off, obviously.  Gave him performance anxiety, being so imposing over in the corner.  Guess now I’ll have to-“

He brushes his palm across his crotch, finds himself painfully hard just from the idea of this.  Of pulling himself out of his clothes and jerking himself off in front of Hux.  Of making him watch, because he can’t leave Kylo alone, now can he? 

“-get myself off.  Unless, of course, you think you can find me another…willing participant?”

His hips jerk a little at the thought.  Hux picking someone to fuck Kylo over the bathroom sink while he watches with that cool, judgmental stare.

“I do believe pigs will fly before I stoop so low.” Hux snaps.

“Mmm, shame.  Guess I’ll just have to take care of myself.  If you want something done well, you’ve got to do it yourself, right?"

Kylo presses his palm harder against himself, moans a little at the first delicious hints of friction.  Hux is silent, but his gaze  _ burns _ .  Kylo trails his fingers slowly, teasingly down toward his zipper.  There he pauses, tab between his fingers, and shoots Hux a look through his lashes.

"Care to lend a hand?"

Hux's mouth pinches in a moue of distaste, like he's chewing on his tongue.

"No." 

He snarls, but his voice is rougher than it was five minutes ago.

Kylo grits his teeth against a wave of desire.  Hux doesn't think he'll do it.  Thinks this is just another bluff, another temper tantrum.  But Kylo wants this.  Wants this man to fall on his knees for him, like all the others.  Wants that power, that specific and heady form of worship.  He drags the tab down, far enough to show Hux he's not wearing any underwear beneath his trousers.

Hux draws in a long ragged breath through his nose, and Kylo can hear the shaking in it from across the tiny space.  He doesn't call Hux on it, just pulls his cock out, already fully hard, and gives it a slow pump of his hand.

"Mmmmm.  Not as good as someone else doing it for you, but it'll do in a pinch."

He tilts his head back.  Starts to fist himself slowly, eyes sliding closed at the rough drag of palm against more intimate skin.  He slides a thumb over the head on an up stroke, uses the precum collecting there to ease the passage.  It feels OK, although not quite what he wants.  He gives himself a squeeze, twisting his fist a little with each pass back and forth.

It takes him five minutes of deliberately glacial ministrations to realize that not only has Hux not reacted--he's not even breathing hard.  The space is silent save for the rasp of his palm against his cock and his own occasional moan.

He opens his eyes and brings his head back forward, trying to fight a blush of mortification.  What did he think this was going to prove?  Hux has never so much as shown interest in him or any of his charms before.  Kylo is a fool to think he would start now.    His hand stops, hanging limply along his slightly wilting dick.

"Don't stop." 

Kylo's eyes find Hux's.  A gasp tears out of his throat hat the sheer heat in that gaze.  Hux is looking at him like he's thinking of consuming Kylo whole.  He opens his mouth to tell Hux he wouldn't mind that in the slightest but all that comes out is a high-pitched groan.  Hux's eyes never leave his.

"I said, don't stop."

The sheer raspy sound of his voice, shredded with want, has Kylo's hand moving without conscious thought.  That blue eye drops to watch the pumping motion with a terrifying focus.  Kylo wants to show off, but he can't remember how with this feeling fogging his brain.

"Tell me-"

He licks his dry lips, tries against .

"Tell me what to do.   _ Please _ ."

For a moment, he thinks Hux will fall on him like some starving animal.  He's silently willing him to do it.  Instead, the guard leans back against the wall, tilting his head back to watch Kylo.  The silence starts to lengthen, and Kylo spares a thought for panic.  Has he ruined this already?

"Grip yourself more firmly.  If you're going to do this, do it right."

Kylo complies, gripping himself until his knuckles are white.

"Now stroke yourself, slowly.  Make it last.  Make it good."

His hand is already moving, that perfect slow speed that makes his back arch and his head fall back.  He's making too much noise.  He's sure of it.  Kylo bites his lip to stifle the sound.

"No!"  Hux's order is forceful, almost explosive,"Don't hold it in.  Let me hear you.  Let everyone outside know what an insatiable little slut you are."

Kylo whimpers, hips bucking forward in an attempt at a faster speed.  He lets himself gasp and pant, sucking air into his lungs like the room is rapidly running out of oxygen.  Through it all, Hux's voice reaches him like an anchor.  His only line to reality.

"Good.  Just like that.  Twist on the upstroke.  Harder.  You like that, don't you?"

Kylo tosses his head from side to side, his free hand darting between gripping the sink behind him for dear life, tugging at his clothes like he can rip them them off, and twisting tightly in his hair.  He feels pulled in so many different directions as the pleasure builds and builds.  Like he might go mad with it.

"Harder.  Just a little faster.  You're so close, aren't you?  Look how much you what it.  What would the press make of you like this, hm?"

Kylo is so close, it hurts.  Everything is too tight, too hot, too close.  But it's still not enough.

"Please.", he gasps.  He's not even sure what he's asking for. He just knows that Hux will give it to him.  Hux always gives him what he needs.

"Please, what?"

Kylo shakes his head, hand still pumping along his shaft, that twist at the end of every upstroke driving him slowly insane.

"Words, Kylo."

Its his name that pushes the request out of his mouth.

"Please.  Please, can I come? "

"May you come."

Kylo honestly whines.

"Hux,  _ please _ !"

The other man sighs.

"I suppose you've been fairly well behaved.  That does deserve  _ some  _ reward.  Yes, Kylo, you may."

So close.  He's so close he's shaking.  His knees are barely holding him.

"Kylo, cum. Now."

That tone, that commanding edge that demands obedience. It punches Kylo over the edge, and he's coming with a sob, release streaking white over his knuckles. It's so intense he has to cling to the sink for dear life with his free hand or end up on the floor.  He hangs there for a few minutes, head down and chest heaving.  His mind is blissfully blank.

When at last he can raise his head to look at Hux, it's to see his suit pants tented very obviously.  Suddenly, he wants whatever is beneath that zipper in his mouth.  He scrambles to clean himself off and tuck his cock back in his pants, careful of its current sensitivity.  He doesn't normally do this sort of reciprocity, but he can make an exception from time to time.  He also wants to be held, any way Hux will allow.

"Would you-? Can I-"

Kylo is reaching out to Hux with one hand, trying desperately to articulate himself in a way that will get Hux to actually say yes.  He doesn't get to finish that sentence, however, because the bathroom door explodes open.

* * *

 

Even desire-fogged as his brain is, Hux reacts quickly.  He springs at Kylo, forcing him back into a corner.  He moves in front of his charge, becoming a bulwark from whatever is threatening. 

Hank is back, and he has a couple of buddies with him.  He's also waving a switchblade he got from who-knows-where.

"He’s mine for the night, carrot top.  Step aside!"

Hux widens his stance for more stability, tries to count the spreading number of assailants.  At least three, but there is possibly a fourth hidden by the limited view of the door and the bulk of his fellows.

"Mr. Ren has indicated he does not favor your attention.  Now stand down and let us leave before this ends badly for all of you."

They're coming in now, spreading out around them in a semi-circle.  Hank isn't the only one armed.  Hux waits, mentally running through different possible attack scenarios.  He thinks about calling out for Phasma but he's not sure she'll hear him over the music or other ambient noise between here and her booth.  She might even have gone home, taking her lovely lady with her.

"It ends badly for  _ you _ , tomato.  Your hair won't be the only thing red about you once we're finished with you!  Maybe we'll even let you watch while we take turns with that pretty mouth.   After all this trouble, it's the least the little cock-tease can do."

Behind him, Kylo makes a quiet sound of terror.  Hux feels his face harden.

"Over my dead body."

"That's the plan, geezer!" Hank shouts, as he and his mates rush Hux.

He takes out the one closest to his blind spot first.  He catches him with a kick to the side of the knee, hears it crunch.  The man goes down screaming and clutching his leg.  Hux stomps him in the side, causing him to vomit uncontrollably onto the floor and ensuring he won't be causing more trouble anytime soon.

The second he grabs the right arm of as he dodges a wide-thrown punch.  Twists it straight and then slams his hand down on the locked elbow.  Feels the unmistakable give of shattering bone.  Grabbing the offender by his hair, Hux slams the forehead to his rising knee.  Instant unconsciousness.  Hux lets the suddenly heavy body drop.

Fists connect simultaneously with his face and his gut.  The force throws him back into Kylo, who shrills with fear and probably pain as he's crushed up against the bathroom wall.  Suddenly, Hux is back in a dirty alleyway in Berlin, surrounded by four enemy agents with his backup too far away to get to him in time.  He stops seeing the bathroom in a wealthy club, doesn't hear the music and the rising shouting outside.  He's focused instead on the two still-standing assailants.

He rushes one, taking him around the middle and tackling him to the floor. Two quick punches to the face.  A third to the chest.  Hux seizes the bangs from his floppy hair, uses it to slam his head against the ground.  Another punch to his bleeding face for good measure.  Then he's on his feet, spinning  to face the fourth assailant, who slashes at him with a blade.

Someone screams, but he doesn't care.  He dodges one strike, two.  His back hits the wall, and he can't roll away in time to avoid the third cut.  A line of fire burns along his ribs.  Hux ignores it.  Uses the opportunity to grab his enemy's wrist while he's in close proximity.  Twist and slams the wrist down, breaking the bones.  Jabs an elbow to the chest.

The knife drops to the ground with a clatter, and Hux kicks it away.  Spins his attacker by the captive wrist so they change places.  He slams the other man up against the wall, twisting the injured arm up behind his back.  He uses it as leverage to slam the man against the paneling.  Over and over and over.  There's blood on the surface, he can see.

He doesn't plan to stop.

"Hux!"

The shout cuts through the fear and the rage.  Pulls him back to his surroundings.  Turning his head, he sees Phasma at the mouth of the alley.  Wait, no.

That's a doorway.  He's not in Berlin.  Is he?  She's dressed different than he remembers.

She comes toward him slowly, her hands wide, where he can see them.

"Hux.  Bren!  Take it easy.  You're safe.  Solo is safe.  You can let go now.  You don’t want to kill this man."

He really does, actually.  Although he can't remember specifically why.  That is enough to have him letting go, stumbling away to lean back against a stall partition.

Stall?

That's right.  He covers his face with his hands, takes a deep breath.  Lets it out.  Draws another one in.  Phasma is still speaking to him, low and soothing.  But there is another voice in the room, a little bit away.  He glances up.

A handsome pair in the corner, the woman soothing her companion.  Wait, why was his brain telling him that was strange?  The man is distraught, dark hair roiling around him like a nimbus.  There are tears sliding down his cheeks, ruining his makeup. 

Ren.  Kylo Ren, his charge.  And Rey.  Senator Organa's intern.  Phasma's girlfriend.   Phasma herself puts a steady hand on his shoulder as reality comes crashing back around him. He glances at Hank, lying on the floor. His friend beside him, bleeding silently.

"Are they-?" He asks Phasma roughly.

"They're breathing.  Which is frankly more than the little turds deserve.  You should have heard them trash talking the little bun-tumbler at the bar.  Stinking drunk, and lucky they're alive."

"Bun-tumbler?"  He knows he's going to regret asking.  She jerks her head at Ren, who is watching them now, Rey's hand rubbing soothingly on his arm.

" The crumpet trumpet.  Your ankle-biter.  He who is-"

"Alright.  I get your point.  Forget I asked."

She grins at him, her mouth opening on what is probably going to be a very snarky comment when movement catches Hux's eye. The first assailant, the one he'd only disabled. He's reaching for the knife Hux kicked away, his eyes intent on Kylo as he scrambles to his feet.  Hux is already moving.

Time seems to slow to a crawl.  Hux has always hated these moments, because they make him feel powerless.  He can see what is going to happen, but his body is always too slow to change anything.

Not this time. 

Hux slides between Kylo and the attacker, forcing his charge and Rey back against at the sink.  The knife is a shock of cold as it slides into his gut.  Hux knows it will hurt more later.  Before he can counter-attack, Phasma is there, physically body-slamming the man into the wall with a sick thud.  Her knee cracks him under the jaw on the way down, and he's out like a light.

The world starts to slip sideways, everything getting hazy. Phasma leaps toward him, yelling his name, and along with two other pairs of hands lowers him to the floor.  Ren is suddenly within his view, tear streaked face panicked.  He's shouting something Hux can't hear over the roaring in his ears.  Someone jostles the knife in his gut and agony spikes through him, white hot.

Then blessed darkness.  And nothing.

* * *

 

He wakes to the sound of incessant beeping and pain.  Unfortunately, he is far too familiar with this particular combination.  His side hurts in dull throbs, and on top of that, he  _ itches _ .  Stitches, then, and what must be the tail-end of a morphine drip.  His head aches, he’s thirsty,  and on top of everything else that the universe has seen fit to fling at his dignity, he needs to pee.

Badly.

“Well, fuck.” he says without opening his eyes.  The sore throat gives his voice an utterly ragged edge.  He winces, then has to bite back a whimper when his stitches pull from the motion.  He sounds like a crack-whore coming off a bender.

“That’s the extent of it, yeah.”

Hux cracks his eye open, turning his head slightly to give Phasma the deepest glare he can manage for the amusement in her voice.  He already knows it’s pathetic as far as his usual ones go.  She’s sitting in one of those hideously uncomfortable hospital visiting chairs, looking like hell has warmed over.  She’s still wearing the outfit from last night.  There’s a bloody smear at the edge of her jaw.  

They’ve been through this routine, and its reverse, enough times that he doesn’t even feel dismay at the knowledge that it’s probably  _ his  _ blood. 

“Ren?” he asks, scanning the small room to be sure his errant charge isn’t somehow hiding behind the taupe drapes or skulking in a corner. 

“Back home, under extreme duress I might add.  Nearly threw a fit when I told him he needed to go with Finn.  Luckily, he’s too scared of me to really try it. Whatever sort of discipline you’ve been meting out has had the twisted side-effect of winning you the schlong-a-doodle’s heart.  Good job...I think.”

“Schlong-a-doodle?  Really?  Did you somehow regress to the mental maturity of an eight-year-old?” he probes, partially because he can’t believe that list of words just came out of her mouth, but mostly to distract her from that particular topic.  Ren had no affection for him.  This was a game the spoiled brat played because he was bored.

He studiously does not think about the bathroom.  About Ren, hand on his own cock, head tipped back.  Doesn’t think of that long pale column of throat.  How delicious the arch of it had been.  The nearly painful urge to suck a necklace of bruises into it as his fingers left matching ones on fair hips.  The sound of Ren, coming on his command.  No, Hux isn’t thinking about that.   _ At all. _

Phasma, thankfully oblivious to this entire train of not-thought, breaks into a smile.  It’s a touch manic in its relief.

“Hey, I haven’t slept in nearly thirty hours.  It’s the best I’ve got on short notice.  And if you’re feeling well enough to gripe at me for that, you’re well enough for a nurses’ visit.”

She’s up and out the door before he can accurately curse at her.  She knows he hates the nurses, with their fussing and poking and cooing over his wounds.  He prefers the ones who just give him his pain meds and go.  He hurts, he itches, and he doesn’t want to talk to people.

Also, he still  _ really _ has to pee.

When the nurse has come and gone, even helping him stumble into the attached bathroom, Hux endures fifteen minutes of the doctor assigned to his care telling him all the ways he could have gruesomely died on the operating table.  Then he waxes solicitous to the point of ass-kissing on how is Hux is feeling, is there any pain, tell him right away if anything hurts, at  _ all _ .  Hux manages, barely, not to inform the man of the many ways he can kill him without getting out of bed.

Once the singularly unctuous bloke has oozed out of the room, Hux slumps back against his pillows and regards Phasma steadily.  She’s twitching, around her eyes and her fingers, in the way that suggests the truly regrettable amount of awful hospital coffee she’s consumed.  He could tell her to go home, which she would promptly ignore, or he could distract her from accidentally murdering the noisy child running up and down the halls outside.

“So how much should I expect from the Solo severance package?”

That damned eyebrow rises. 

“What gives you the impression there will be one?  The single room in one of the best hospitals in the city?  The round-the-clock care of a doctor employed just for you?  The bills for anesthesia, surgery, after care that are all completely paid for already, and not from your bank account?  What, in all of that, gives you the impression you were being fired?"

He gazes at her flatly.

"I'm bed-ridden for the better part of a month now, Phasma."

"I’d say closer to two.  You’re no spring-chicken.”

“Thirty-two does not an old man make.  Be grateful.  You’d be a crone right along-side.  Stop trying to distract me.”

“Ok, fuck you for that, first of all.  Second, yes, you’re injured, from doing your job."

"A job I cannot do laid up in bed."

"Do you honestly think they care?  You can take the nights when he stays in, and Finn goes with him when he goes out.  Easy."

Hux sighs, hating that she's making him admit it.

"I can't protect him in this state."

"Hux.  You took a knife,  _ to the gut _ , for her son.  Senator Organa is going to give you anything you want, including handcuffing Jimmy Lap-Rocket to your bed so you can more easily do your job.  Although, pretty sure that's what you want anyway, so no hardship, I'm sure."

"Normally, I'd tell you to fuck off for that, but after seeing your girlfriend, I realize that would be a reward.  Alright,  _ sod off _ , then."

"You only say that when you know I'm right."

"The only thing you've ever been right about is how many times Mitaka would have to take a piss during a stake-out."

Phasma is laughing so hard she's bent double in the chair, hands wrapped around her shaking sides, wheezing nearly silently.  Tears run down her cheeks.  This is how Rey finds them when she comes in, carrying an arrangement of flowers that's almost as big as she is.  Poe comes in behind her, a much more subdued and tasteful collection in his hands.

"One guess who sent which one." Rey tells them as she sets her burden by Hux's bed.  Poe sets his vase on the table by the window.

"What's the prize if I guess correctly?" Hux inquires.

"A headache."

"Then I think I shall let it remain a mystery."

She's grinning at Hux as she crosses the room to Phasma, puts her hand to the other woman's cheek.  Hux watches his friend lean into the touch.  He's happy for her, but at the same time, he feels a little hollow, a little lonesome.

Phasma solves this by looking over at him expectantly.

"Well?  Go on!"

When the two guests trade confused expressions, and then turn those same faces on him, Hux promises to put itching powder in Phasma's unmentionables when he gets the chance.  He’s also rather glad he’s lost enough blood at this point that his body refuses to use more just to blush.  He points at the smaller arrangement.

"Basically, thank you for saving our son.  Get well soon.  Peony for healing; daffodils for chivalry, which can also mean fidelity to a liege or employer.  Gladiolus, for strength of character.   Chrysanthemum s symbolize fidelity, optimism, joy, and long life.  The leafy yellow bits are agrimony, which denote thankfulness."

Poet and Rey stare at him with a great deal of surprise.  Phasma sees this, and starts laughing again.

"I know, right?  Hux is an excellent amateur gardener.  Loves flowers, and he knows that whole language of flowers shit.  It's great.  He once sent a commanding office this really nice arrangement when he was being reassigned.  Serious douche-bag.  Guy thought it was just pretty nonsense, right?  Its actual meaning was 'Fuck you'.  Oh, the squad laughed about that for a solid month."

Rey raises her eyebrow at him in that familiar expression.  Only now, looking at her next to Phasma, he knows exactly where she learned it.  Probably part of what their pillow talk consisted of.  Aaaaand he’s not thinking about any more of that.  No thank you.

"OK, then." She said, nodding at the brightly explosion on Hux's side, "What's the other one mean?"

“Assuming that overgrown man-child even knows there  _ is  _ a floral language?”

Poe sits down at the foot of Hux’s bed, smiling like a cat with feathers in his whiskers.  Slowly, careful to not bump Hux, he makes himself comfortable against the foot board.

“He’s a selfish, over-indulged brat, don’t get me wrong.  But he’s also smarter than most people think.”

He pauses, his face contorting in horror as he realizes what he just said.

“If any of you tell him I said that, I will make sure you can never be seen in polite company again.”

Hux thinks back to Kylo’s ability to know everyone in a club or lounge.  How he blends in and shapes his personality carefully to whomever he is talking to.  Hux grunts, unwilling to admit that Dameron is right.  Instead, he studies the larger display.

Feels his face starts to heat.  Apparently his body had blood enough for  _ this _ .  Phasma leans forward, wearing her ‘blood in the water’ face.

“Oh, this ought to be good.  Do tell.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Eleanora.    Gladiolus, hyacinth, bird of paradise, sunflowers, alstroemeria, and roses.  None of these create a cohesive statement.  He probably just picked them for their size and color.”

He’s lying through his teeth.  

 

* * *

 

“Ouch!”

Kylo yanks his hand back from the creature currently nesting in his Jean Paul Gaultier fur coat.  It’s a ratty ball of ginger against the darker sable.  He tucks the bleeding finger into his mouth, sucks a little to clean off the blood.  Then he regards the bedraggled kitten angrily.

 

“Look, you.  Show a little gratitude.  It’s snowing outside.  Do you really want to go back to that?”

The cat opens it’s tiny mouth and gives a ferocious hiss.  Finn hovers behind him, trying not to laugh.  

“I dunno, man.  You should probably leave him alone for a bit.”

Kylo considers hissing, himself.  Might have, if he wasn’t quite so preoccupied with preserving his clothes.

“When it gets off my eight hundred dollar coat.”

“Shit!  Why would anyone spend that much on clothes?”

Kylo is about to launch into an intense lecture on the importance of high fashion and paying for prestige as well as product when the little ginger hell-beast darts past him, between Finn’s legs, and out into the other room.  Both men leap after it at the same time, which ends with them slamming into each other and then the door jamb.  By the time they’ve untangled, the cat is nowhere to be found.  That is, until-

“What is this?”

They both jump.  The door connecting Kylo’s suite with Hux’s is open just a crack, where Kylo left it open to hear the sounds of his body-guard returning from the hospital.  If anyone actually asked, he will swear himself bloody that it was an accident.  Kylo looks at Finn, who shrugs and pulls a ‘We’re dead anyway. Might as well” face.  

On the other side of the door, Hux sits up in bed, wearing a beat-up old tank top and...oh.  Kylo swallows against a suddenly dry throat.  Reading glasses should really not look so sexy.  They shouldn’t.  Hux isn’t wearing his patch, either, which justs makes the whole picture both more ridiculous and more attractive.  Hux is looking at him steadily, as if the night in the bathroom had never happened.  Like he hadn’t talked Kylo through one of the more powerful orgasms of his life.

“Why is there an orange ball of fluff under my bed?”

His voice is cool, and Kylo suppresses a shiver as Finn starts talking.  Explaining Kylo finding it in the snow after leaving Finalizer last night, and then bringing it back to the house.  Half-way through, Hux interrupts him.

“Aren’t you off duty?”

Finn blinks.

“Well, yeah.”

“I believe Mr. Dameron is waiting for you in the foyer.”

“Oh, crap, I forgot!”

Finn is out the door before Kylo can really trace what is going on, leaving him and Hux staring at each other in silence.

“Is Poe really waiting for him?” he asks, just to break the oppressive weight of quiet.  He shuffles, tucks his hands in his pockets.  He suddenly feels naked without any makeup, and his hair pulled into a ratty bun.  Wishes he’d at least put on something more...sophisticated.

“I’ve honestly no idea, but anything is possible in this house, apparently.”

Kylo feels the heat creeping up his throat, hates the knowledge.  Blushing is never a good look for him.  It always comes in blotchy and irregular.  Great.  Now on top of looking like some street-rat, he’d be a multi-colored one.  Hux regards him for another few moments in silence and then clears his throat.

“So...why is there a cat under my bed?”

“Um...well...it’s snowing.  So, y’know, I couldn’t just…”

He shrugs.  He wants to sit next to Hux on the bed, ask to see the stitches on his left side.   _ Eleven and a half _ , his mind helpfully supplies,  _ missed most of the vital organs, but did manage to nick the spleen and the pancreas. Six hours in surgery. _

Hux interrupts his internal monologue.

“Just what?”

“Um…”

“ _ Words _ , Kylo.”

Just like that, Kylo is back in the lounge bathroom, clinging to the sink behind him for dear life, begging for anything Hux will give him.  He clears his throat, bites his lip, tries to pretend he totally wasn't reliving that moment.  Tries to remember what they were talking about in the first place.  A growl from under the bed as he steps a little closer reminds him.

Right.

The cat.

“It’s snowing, Hux.  I wasn’t just going to leave it out there.”

Hux tips his head up at Kylo, face still a careful neutral.

“You would certainly leave a human being out in that.”

“Well, I mean-, yeah, sure, but-it’s not fair to the cat, you know?  They didn’t do anything to earn that.”

“I see.  So you require guilt before you treat someone like dirt beneath your shoes?”

“Yes-no-why do I feel like you’ve just turned this around on me?”

The corner of Hux’s mouth quirks upward, just a little.  Kylo can’t help himself, moves to the edge of the bed, lowers himself down while keeping an eye on Hux’s reaction.  What he gets is a grunt and a “Careful, Ren” when he jostles the mattress a little too much.  

“Sorry.  I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry-”

Kylo starts to jump to his feet, when Hux seizes his wrist, keeping him in one place.

“Slowly, damnit.”

Once Kylo shows no signs of moving again, Hux releases him.  From this position, Kylo can see the bandages wrapped around Hux’s side, and he can’t help but feel shame and embarrassment.  Normally, he doesn’t like people.  But Hux had gotten hurt because of him.  Not even anything Kylo did  _ to  _ him, but because he was protecting him.  He reaches out with the same hand Hux was holding, until his fingers barely graze the edge of the bandaging.  He looks up to find Hux watching him with that same focus he’d worn as Kylo jerked himself off.

Kylo wants to swallow, but his throat suddenly won’t work.

“Does it-does it hurt?” he asks, voice coming out as barely a whisper.  Hux’s hand covers his, pressing it into his ribs just slightly.

“Yes.”

The silence stretches between them, so heavy Kylo is afraid to move, in case it breaks.  He studies Hux’s face.  His scars, his nose, his ginger brows.  The way his hair falls into his eyes without the shellac that usually holds it in place.  The line of his jaw. His lips.

Kylo knows he’s staring when Hux’s hand tightens on his own.

“Kylo.”

His name is meant to be a warning, he knows, rumbled in Hux’s chest like that.  Knows he should back away.  Part of his brain, somewhere far away, reminds him that he doesn’t even like Hux.  He doesn’t.  

But Kylo isn’t listening.  Instead, he’s leaning forward, wanting to know what Hux’s mouth tastes like.  The grip on his hand tightens even further, until it’s hurting, and Kylo likes how much it hurts.  But Hux doesn’t stop him.  

His mouth is a breath from Hux’s when the kitten decides to attack Kylo’s bare feet.

“Ow!  Ow, fuck, wretched beast!”

He jerks away without any though except to move his feet from danger.  Leaps up from the bed and the slashing claws underneath it.  Hux draws a pained breath, curling in on himself in agony.  Kylo feels immediately foolish.  He moves forward, hand outstretched, but Hux waves him away with an angry snarl.  Feeling helpless and hurt and disappointed at the entire universe, Kylo flees back to his own suite, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you’re wondering: Alstroemeria means friendship; Gladiolus is strength of character again as well as honor; Bird of Paradise can mean magnificence or exciting; Sunflowers can be adoration, dedication, or haughtiness. Red Hyacinth for playfulness, white for loveliness. Roses are dark and light pink, meaning gratitude and desire, respectively. 
> 
> Basically, Ren is saying: “Thanks for saving me. You're amazing. I also think you’re hot, and I’m very interested in continuing what we started.”


	4. Toes On the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lines get fuzzier, and hearts open just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, darlings. Chapter 4 of 5. Again, a thousand thank you's to Rebecca for being a wonderful beta, and to Mythoughtcrime for all the inspiration.

“Tell me you’re joking!”

Hux looks up from doing a few slow stretches in order to limber up his body and the flesh healing under his stitches.  Kylo is looking at him with something pleasingly like horror as Rey does her own stretches across the room.  

“Perhaps you should be more specific?”

“What do you mean, ‘she’s your sparring partner until I heal’?”

Kylo gestures widely with his arms.  Hux isn’t sure if he’s attempting to indicate Rey, the cleared out gym Hux has covered with sparing mats, or just trying to convey some sense of ludicrousy.  He might even have something on that last one.  Hux stands to his full height slowly, leaning his neck from one side to the other in an attempt to pop and loosen his neck muscles.

“I am currently incapable of protecting you from multiple assailants.  These lessons are precautions that may aide in your survival in the case I am currently occupied.”

Kylo points accusingly at Rey.

“But why is  _ she  _ here?”

“Think of it as...paying your debt.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll see.  Ms. Kenobi?”

Rey crosses the room to them, barefoot and dressed in loose sweats.  From the warm-up Hux ran her through yesterday, he knows she’s perfectly capable of handling all the maneuvers he wants to cover today.  He also knows from the glint in her eye that Kylo will be walking out with perhaps a few more bruises than might generally originate from this sort of lesson.

Hux is looking forward to the show.

Turning back to Kylo, he moves behind the other man, nudging his legs further apart.  Reaching around, he tugs his charge’s arms into something resembling a guarded stance.

“First lesson: how to stand.  Before you can strike or respond to an enemy, you need to be steady.  Without a strong stance, you’ll end up in more trouble than you started with.  Understand?”

Kylo is taller than he is, so Hux is speaking more to the back of his neck than to Kylo himself.  The man’s shoulders are aggravatingly broad.  He can barely get his arms around them.  How had he never noticed this before?

There’s a small shudder under his hands, and he’s momentarily torn between squeezing the arms in his grip or ignoring it.  For the sake of the watching Rey, he decides on the second option.  Kylo makes an affirmative sound.

“Good.  Always make sure your feet are shoulder width apart.  Arms up to protect your chest, elbows in to protect your ribs.  None of that wide-open Hollywood nonsense.  Look at Ms. Kenobi.  See how she stands.  Try to mimic it.”

Hux lets go, backs far enough away that he won’t be accidentally hit by flying limbs, and then nods to Rey.

Kylo doesn’t have a chance.  She’s on him faster than he’s ready for.  Sweeps his legs out from under him with a move that looks almost casual.  Down Hux’s charge tumbles, to lay in a very surprised heap on the mats.  Kylo blinks.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?!  I thought the first lesson was how to  _ stand _ !”

Hux waits until Rey has helped him to his feet, and then nods again.  She sends Kylo flying over her hip with a sharp pull.  Hux is trying to keep a straight face as he deadpans:

“Lesson number two: learning how to fall.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” the other man snarls and he scrambles to his feet.  Rey is already moving at him, and Hux will give him credit that he manages to dodge her first punch.  The second hits him in the gut and he struggles to keep his arms up.  Unfortunately, he also forgets his feet again, and Rey sends him down with a foot hooked behind his knee.

“I don’t think Mr. Hux jokes about your safety, asshole.” she says, but her eyes are lit with unholy amusement.  Kylo glares up at her from the ground.

“I’ll get you fired!”

Rey actually snorts.

“Idiots can dream, I guess.”

Kylo rushes at her with an angry yell.  Hux would normally reprimand a trainee for such poor behavior on the mats, but he knows Rey is perfectly capable of doling out punishment on her own.  She lets him get close enough to grab her by the arms.  Then she seizes him by his biceps in turn and falls back, taking him with her.  A kick of her leg sends him flipping over her and onto his back with a thud.  

Hux does not call her on the groin kick she lands for this particular feat.

Kylo curls up on the floor, hands cupped between his legs, cursing them both between mewls of pain.  Hux walks over, nudges him with the toe of his shoe.

“Get up.  Your opponent isn’t going to wait for you to recover.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No. You’re not pardoned, and I’m not doing this shit.  It’s why you were hired in the first place.”

Hux feels the sudden urge for a cigarette; recognizes the tell-tale signs of rising blood pressure.  He sighs in an attempt to stem the flood of irritation.  Slowly, with care to his healing side, he squats down next to Kylo.  When that proves to be too much, stitches pulling angrily, he takes a knee.  Allows his torso straighten out.

“Listen to me, you brat, and listen well.  You are a walking disaster.  You attract trouble.”

“You can say that again.”

Kylo rolls over, hissing angrily.  Hux puts one hand on his shoulder, partly to get his attention and partly to keep himself from falling over.

“Ms. Kenobi.”

“Oh, all right.  I’ll take a water break.”

She strolls out of the room, ignoring the cooler full of iced water in the corner.  Hux makes a silent promise to correct Phasma’s assumption that there was something between him and Kylo.  She was starting to pass it on to others.  

Kylo is still on the floor, looking up at him with a petulant expression more suited to a three year old who has been told he can’t have a cookie before dinner.

“Are you listening now?”

Those dark eyes slide away from him, lip drooping in a pout.

“Kylo?”

“Yes, Hux, I’m listening.  Against my better judgement.”

“You don’t have any.  That is my point.”

Kylo is glaring at Hux, now.  

“Gee, thanks, so mu-”

“I am trying to help you stay alive.  Work with me here.”

They stare at each other, something crackling in the air between them.  When Kylo doesn’t say anything else, Hux heaves himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pulling of his wound.  Kylo follows him, standing quietly.  Hux steps back, fighting the urge to press hand to aching side.

“Now, let’s try this again.  How do you stand?”

He expects Kylo will keep fighting him, starts to formulate how to discipline him without ripping healing wounds open.  Instead, the man brings his arms up, feet sliding out.  Hux has to clear his throat before he can speak.

“Good.  Feet in a little.  Elbows down.”

He taps Kylo’s elbows, nudging them closer to his ribs.  He circles him carefully, tapping here and there to correct his posture.  When getting the other man to stand straighter, he leaves his hands on Kylo’s back and stomach a few moments longer than is really necessary.

“Spine strong, from your core.  The more solid your stance, the less likely you are to end up on the ground.”

When Kylo has rearranged his long limbs to Hux’s satisfaction, Hux takes Rey’s place on the mat.  Kylo starts back.

“Hux!  Your wound!”

Hux snorts.

“We won’t be doing be doing anything worth paying attention to.  Now, you’re going to learn how to avoid that leg sweep she keeps getting you with.”

Hux moves forward as he’s talking, movements slow so Kylo can see what he’s talking about step-by-step.

“It’s exceedingly common for new learners to forget their bottom half.  Most are so focused on the damage fists can do that they forget everything from the waist down.  This is a mistake.  If you end up on the ground, you’re at the mercy of fists  _ and  _ feet.  Getting up can be close to impossible.”

He slides his foot in between Kylo’s legs, places the outer edge of his left foot against the instep of Kylo’s right.  Gets in close, grabbing Kylo’s shoulders.  Then, he nudges Kylo’s foot with his own, hard.  Kylo wobbles, nearly goes down.  Only Hux’s grip on him keeps him upright.  The stitches pull mildly, but nothing Hux can’t handle.

“Think of it this way: If you are on the ground, you are dead.  Now, stand again.”

He lets go, steps back.  Kylo straightens without protest.

“Put your hands back up in the guard position.  Next time I get in close, try to avoid me.  If you can’t avoid me by moving a single foot, get out of range.  Otherwise you compromise yourself.”

He waits for Kylo’s nod, the slide of his arms into position.  He makes minute adjustments, then steps in close again.  This time, Kylo steps the foot he targets back.  When he tries the other foot, the other man moves that one as well.  They do this routine a few times before Hux feints, and Kylo responds by jumping back out range entirely.

“Good!”

Kylo beams at the praise, his whole face lighting up.  He seems to realize what he is doing, ducks his head in sudden embarrassment.  Hux feels a little light-headed.  He’s never thought Kylo could be... _ cute… _

“Kylo-”

“Oi, no starting without me!”

Hux contemplates murder, just for a moment.  Was there some sort of conspiracy he wasn’t privy to that anytime something was going to happen between himself and Kylo there needed to be interference?  Granted, it was keeping him on the side of professionalism that he should stay on, but right now he’s not sure that’s where he wants to be.

Is it?

Rey has come strutting back into the room, a bottle of water in one hand.  She steps onto the mats and nudges Hux with her shoulder against his.  When he regards her with amused befuddlement, she gestures toward the far end of the room.  There is a bench placed against the wall.

“Sit.  You’re not supposed to have any sort of strain.”

He looks down his nose at her.  She cannot actually be serious.

“Ms. Kenobi, I am perfectly capable of knowing when I am actually straining.”

Rey forces the bottle into his hands.

“Ellie said you’d say that. She also said that when you did, I was to tell  _ you  _ she would tell the asshole about Khartoum, and how you -”

“I do believe I am starting to feel a small amount of strain.  If you’d be so kind as to take over, Ms. Kenobi.”

She snorts, but Kylo looks far too interested for Hux’s comfort.

“Wait, wait.  What happened in Khartoum?”

Hux sits down on the bench, angling himself to keep anything from pulling or catching. He is also planning some dire response to Phasma’s meddling.

“I suggest you worry more about where Ms. Kenobi’s fist is going.”

“Wait, what-”

Down Kylo tumbles onto the mat again, and after that point he isn’t capable of following up on his curiosity.  Hux finds himself mildly grateful.

* * *

 

“Ow.    _ Ow _ , dammit!  What is with you and the biting?!  I’m trying to feed you, ungrateful nasty  _ thing _ !”

Hux looks up from his physical therapy stretches, listening to the thump that signifies Kylo’s retreat from under some table.  An orange bit of fuzz comes streaking in through the barely open door. Unlike the last month or so, however, the cat does not dive for the safety under his bed.  She takes a running leap  and lands on the edge of his blankets, using claws to hook her way up.  Hux stares at her in bemusement as she insinuates herself between his pillow and an untucked corner of the blankets.

Kylo comes barreling in not a moment later, which Hux knows he should have expected, but is still startled by.  There are several sets of bleeding scratches on Kylo’s bare arms. The other man stops at the sight of Hux, looks him up and down.  Blushes.  Hux is getting very tired of having to ignore this behavior.  

“Is there something you wanted?” he asks coolly, lifting the light barbell in his left hand in another overhead stretch.  Kylo’s eyes follow the movement with something like hunger in their depths.  Hux is thinking about doing it again, just for his reaction, when the kitten gives a growl bigger than she is.

Kylo turns toward her and gives a snarl of his own.

“Fine, evil beast. Starve.  I don’t care!  No more cream for you.”

He throws up his hands, clearly done with whatever pissing match he and the cat have gotten into this time.

“Cream actually isn’t good for cats.”

Kylo looks at him, startled. Hux’s view of him turns a little oddly as he performs another stretch, this time with the other side.  The newly stitch-less scar pulls slightly, but does not hinder him.

“What?  How do you know that?”

Hux puts the barbells down, then starts to do push-ups.

“My mother had a cat.  A fat, lazy persian.  Ugliest goddamn creature to ever draw breath, I’m quite certain, but she loved it.”

Kylo lowers himself cross legged in Hux’s peripheral vision, dropping his chin into one hand.

“Oh, shut it.” he tells the cat when she gives another growl.  Hux does another three push ups, pauses to let the burn of his abdominal muscles subside slightly. His dogtags swing gently, the chain brushing his cheek.  Sweat drips in maddeningly slow beads down his face, his back, and his arms. When he no longer feels like his stomach muscles will rip down the middle, he drops into another round.

“Did you need something?” he asks when Kylo continues to sit and stare at him.  The man hums.

“Just wondering about your mother.  I suppose I’d never thought about you having parents.  You seem more like you were grown in a lab somewhere.”

Hux blows out a strained breath.  Rolling over onto his back, he begins to do slow sit-ups, modified by his legs crossed in the air and him only following the motion halfway through.  He couldn’t do the full motion yet without actual pain.

“What half-brained lunacy is this, now?” he demands between curls, “Of course I have parents.  Everyone does, whether we wish to or not.”

Kylo switches his chin to the other palm.

“Yeah, sure, theoretically speaking.  But you’re so grumpy and ‘ _ rawr _ , no fun for me ever’.  I just figured you were cloned by the Army or something.  Should you even be doing those, by the way?”

“It is  _ I  _ that am  _ your  _ nursemaid, Ren, not the other way around.  As for being cloned, that is a fairly accurate summation of basic training.”

“You’re changing the subject.  We’ve stopped talking about your mother.”

Hux takes a moment to breathe, then does a full-body stretch that pulls every stomach muscle taught.  He’s always thought of stretching as a sex-parallel activity.  There was a build-up of pleasure in a good stretch, a crescendo, followed by the slow release of everything.  Keep going too long and it started to hurt.

“How wonderfully astute of you, Ren.  Was there something you needed, or are you just looking for entertainment?”

“Oh, this is quite a show, believe me. But you’ve already distracted me from your Khartoum story.  I’m not letting go of this one too.”

Hux turns on his side, gets clumsily to his feet.  Kylo stares up at him from his position on the floor.

“My personal life is not a bedtime story for silver-spoon brats.”

“How lucky it’s not bedtime, then.”

“ _ Ren _ .”

“Fine, fine.  I’ll let it go.   _ For now _ .”

Hux glances at his charge with narrowed eyes.  Kylo doesn’t shift, still looking entirely too relaxed for the tone of voice Hux had used.  He’s also smirking again, in that way that says he is planning some mischief or other.  When he makes no move to leave as Hux begins bicep curls, he glances at Kylo beneath a fringe of sweaty hair.

“ _ Again, was there something you needed _ ?”

Big dark eyes blink up at him, a moment of heat building.  Then Kylo looks at the now-silent kitten still sitting on Hux’s bed.  She’s watching his charge with the fixed look of a predator, tail twitching back and forth in irritation.

“So, if you don’t feed cats cream, what should I feed him?”

“Her.” Hux puffs, shoving away the filthy double-entendre for ‘cream’ his brain had supplied him with.  It was thoroughly inappropriate.  His mother would be horrified.   _ He  _ was horrified. He is a professional, damn it all!

“What?”

“That cat is female.  No outer genitalia.”

“How can you even tell that?  H-she won’t let anyone closer than it takes to scratch.”

Hux pauses, puts down the weights.  Leans his hand over toward to kitten, letting her smell his fingers.  She gives a delicate sniff, then begins to rub her face against them, lifting her chin for a scratch.  Kylo’s chin comes off his palm.  His mouth is open in disbelief, and it is Hux’s turn to smirk.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I suppose I have skill with all manner of fractious beasts.” he says pointedly.  His reward is a patented Kylo pout.  After giving the feline a few rubs under her chin, Hux turns back to his workout.

“Try meat, uncooked and unseasoned.  Or you can buy pre-packaged stuff from the store.  Dry or wet, it won’t matter.”

“Is that stuff even good for her?”

“It’s far more balanced for her diet than cream, Ren.”

“Fine, fine.  I’ll see what I can find.”

Since they both knew that the cook or the housekeeper would be doing the actual finding, rather than Kylo himself, Hux refrained from comment.  Instead, he went into another round of stretches and exercises as Kylo watched from his spot on the floor.  It takes him two more circuits for Kylo to spit out what he’s clearly been dying to say for several minutes.

“What about your father?”

Hux manages, just barely, not to pause.

“What about him?”

“I’m assuming you have one?”

“Had.”

“ _ Oh _ .  Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  It was quite some time ago.  If you’re going to keep asking questions about my hypothetical parents, go away.”

He goes back to his push ups, expecting the other man to leave in a huff.  Instead, he reaches out and traces a finger over one of the scars on Hux’s right shoulder.  Hux holds himself in the rest position, only turning his head to watch Kylo drag the digit back and forth over the raised silvery-pink flesh.

“What?”

“Where’d you get this?  Or, how?”

Hux rolls his jaw, huffs in irritation.  He goes back to his push-ups, moving his skin away from the maddening drag of fingertips.

“Knife-fight in Cairo.  One of my first missions.  I wasn’t paying attention like I should have been.  Luckily, my opponent’s aim was worse than my focus.  I am fairly sure he was aiming for my throat.”

“Wow.  How old were you?”

Hux rolls onto his back, moving his shoulder completely from Kylo’s curious hands.  He does a full set of crunches before he answers.

“Eighteen.”

“Wait, there’s no way you’d be in the field by eighteen, even if you joined  _ and  _ started basic on the same day.”

“...I didn’t join when I was eighteen.”

“How old  _ were  _ you?”

“Is there a reason for all of these questions today?”

“It’s this or your parents, Hux.  Take your pick.”

“How about neither?”

“Not really my style.”

“Of course not.”

Hux finishes his last set, then sits up to pop his neck.  Kylo still hasn’t moved.

“You’re stalling again.” he informs Hux, looking oddly pleased by the idea.  Hux wonders if Senator Organa dropped Kylo as a child, and he is somehow altered in the cranial department as a result.  Kylo nudges him with a bare foot when the silence keeps growing.  Hux then also considers if rolling his eyes so hard could cause permanent injury.

“I joined up when I was seventeen.”

“That’s not exactly legal.”

“ _ Really _ ?  Is that  _ so _ ?  You know, I had absolutely  _ no  _ idea of that very obvious fact.”

He gets to his feet and grabs the small towel he’d left nearby to wipe away some of the sweat.  Kylo gives that odd little humming noise again.  Hux is starting to associate it with annoyingly probing questions to come.

“Why would you enlist so young?  It’s not like there are any added benefits for it, other than longer service times.”

The Commandant (which is how he thinks of his father, even now.  Never a name.  Just his rank.) is why.   If there had been another avenue open to him, he had not been aware of it at the time.  He can still hear the Commandant on the day they’d filled out the enlistment forms, using a fake ID and birth certificate.  Hux had been shaking, jumpy.  So sure they’d be outed at any moment.

_ “But, sir, isn’t this illegal?” _

_ “Only if you get caught.  Are you going to get caught, stupid boy?” _

_ “...no, sir.” _

So he’d said nothing to the recruiter who was so pleased to be the one to sign the next Hux into service that he’d barely glanced at Hux’s paperwork.  Nothing to his demanding drill instructors, who pushed him harder than the other recruits because he was a legacy.  Nothing to his team leaders, his comrades.  But this is not a story for Kylo, now or ever.  Hux glares down into dark eyes.

“As there is no conceivable way you would ever enter the military, I admit surprise that you even know that.  No, I didn't enlist for any of the privileges or perks most others do.”

Kylo rolls onto his back, stretching like Hux had earlier, and Hux is very distracted by the sliver of skin and the flash of metal that comes from Kylo’s shirt riding up a little.  His charge doesn’t seem to notice his preoccupation, or if he does, he’s enjoying it.

“Then why enlist?  Military life’s a drag.”

“I don’t expect you to understand the ideas of duty or sacrifice for others.”

“You’re not the sacrificial type either, c’mon.  So why’d you do it?”

Kylo rolls onto his stomach.  Hux thinks he looks like nothing so much as a teenage girl, legs in the air and head on hands as they regard each other.

“You are determined to keep pestering me until I answer you, aren’t you?”

The smile he gets is meant to be charming, but it skates too far into smug to really accomplish it’s goal.

“Now you’re getting it.”

Hux sighs.  Pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he can feel brewing.  This is not his favorite conversational topic, at all.

“The men of my family have a long tradition of service.  I was expected to keep this particular familial practice going.”

“Oh.”

Kylo’s chin comes off his hands.  He’s looking at Hux with something like understanding. Something like sympathy. Hux does not want sympathy from a spoiled man-child with no more pressing problems than what to wear that night. He glares down at Kylo instead.

“Yes,  _ oh _ .  Now, if there is nothing you actually need beyond satisfying your cat-like curiosity, perhaps you should see about food for the beast, and leave me alone.”

The other man blinks those big dark eyes up at him, looking sad for some reason Hux is not going to contemplate.  When he makes no move to leave, Hux frowns.

“That was not a suggestion.  Out, Kylo.”

Kylo goes without a complaint, leaving Hux under a cloak of shame and guilt even as he feels painfully vulnerable.  He sighs and drops a stroke along the kitten’s back as he goes in search of a shower, and perhaps something with which he could bludgeon himself into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Kylo inhales slowly until his lungs burn from the stretch.  Blows out the breath of smoke in a controlled stream toward the stars.  It’s freezing, but he doesn’t want to be inside where he parents might come looking for him.  Of course Uncle Luke had to come visit on a night he was home.  He takes another drag in an attempt to drown out the bitter taste in the back of his throat.

Always a goddamn disappointment, wasn’t he?

_ “Are you actually doing anything with your life, Ben?  Or just burning through the family money?” _

_ “Gee, Uncle Luke, are you starting to feel like your title as ‘family wastrel’ is threatened?  Or are you worried there won’t be any left to fund a new studio?” Kylo asks sweetly as he draws aimless patterns on his plate with his fork.  He’s thinking desperately about getting drunk. _

_ His mother’s horrified eyes, his father’s angry shout. _

_ “Ben, don’t speak to your uncle like that!” _

_ “It’s Kylo, for fuck’s sake.  And if he’s going to speak to me like an asshole, I don’t see any reason not to be one right back.” _

_ Han’s eyes are hard.  One hand curls into a fist on the charcoal table cloth. _

_ “I’ll give you several reasons, you punk-” _

_ “Spare me.  Hitting me means you’d actually have to touch me.  Wouldn’t want to ruin your precious manicure.” _

_ His mother’s hand slams down on the table, followed by his uncle’s.  Han half-rises from his seat.  The three of them are shouting at Kylo.  All sorts of things like ‘We raised you to be polite!’, ‘How dare you speak to your father like that!’, ‘My poor sister, saddled with a disappointment like you!’ _

_ He’s had enough.  He shoves away from the table, throws his napkin down.  Over the shouting and the insults, he stalks from the room.  He doesn’t look at Rey as he passes her, nor Poe.  He doesn’t want to see their smirking faces.  Doesn’t want yet more people to rub what a disaster he is in his face. _

_ He knows, damn it.  They think he doesn’t? _

_ He knows he’ll never do anything right, so why bother trying in the first place. It’s so much easier to be bad, so much easier to be cruel.  Then no one ever expects anything else from you. _

_ He slams the door to his room as hard as he can. _

_ Fuck them all. _

The stinging in his hand brings him back to reality. The cigarette has burned down enough to threaten his fingers.  Kylo considers letting it keep going.  He wants the distraction of something,  _ anything _ .  The balcony door opens suddenly, and Hux steps out to join him, without regard for the inch of snow already on the ground.  Kylo looks out into the night.  He doesn’t want to see the disgust he knows is in that gaze.

“How is it, with as expensive as the rest of your tastes run, you still manage to inhale that shit?”

He refuses to look at Hux. Focuses on the butt’s dying embers instead.

“I like them.  That’s why.  Now go away.”

The other man grunts, and Kylo hears the door open and shut again. Tossing the burned out cigarette over the edge, he curls up where he’s balanced on the wide railing, hugging his knees.  Doesn’t think about the fact that his ass is freezing against the stone. He doesn’t really want to be alone.  But no one wants to actually spend time with him, either, and he’s not in the mood to force the issue.  It’s all about money or appearance or some shit.  He’s not worth anything otherwise.

Just another waste of air.

Han had shouted that at him once, the flames of Uncle Luke’s studio a forceful backdrop.  The words buzz and echo in his head, darting and stinging like wasps he can’t physically touch to swat away.  He hugs his knees in tighter, fights a sob.  Thinks about just tipping over the side of this stupid balcony and being done with it.  At least no one could yell at him then.  But he’s too much of a coward for even that.  

He knows.  He’s thought about it before.

Tears burn hot at the corners of his eyes, begin to trace paths down his cheeks.  His throat feels thick and closed as his nose starts to run.  A sob works it’s way painfully out of his chest, past his gritted teeth.  Another follows, and another.

The sound of the opening door startles him.  He looks up to see Hux back in the doorway, holding something.  Quickly, Kylo scrubs an arm across his face, remembering too late his makeup.

Shit.

He turns onto his hip, away from Hux as much as possible.  He hears the other man sigh, listens to the footsteps that come closer, rather than leave him to his embarrassing sob-fest in peace.  A piece of soft fabric is shoved in his hand.  Through his wavering gaze, he sees a handkerchief, clean and folded, in the palm of his hand.

“Huh?”

“Clean yourself up with that.”

Kylo darts a look at Hux, who is watching him with ill-disguised impatience. He sniffles, uses the handkerchief to clean up the worst of the running eyeliner.  Blows his nose loudly.  

He goes to hand it back to Hux, and then freezes.  It’s filthy.  Even he knows not to give something like this back until it’s clean.  He tucks it into his fist instead, then changes his mind and stuffs it into his pocket.  Curls back up into a ball as much as he can, presses up against the wall of the house.

“Thanks.” he mumbles through his knees.  He glances up to see Hux scanning the sky with apparent interest.  He can’t help asking:

“What are you looking for?”

“Flying pigs.  I’m assuming that is the only explanation for your sudden bout of manners.”

Kylo squeezes his knees.  He doesn’t need to hear this from Hux, too.

“Fuck off.”

It sounds weak and watery, even to his own ears.  Kylo keeps his head down so that the blush of humiliation that returns so swiftly isn’t evident in the dark.  There’s the unmistakable sound of a lighter clicking and catching, the sound of puffing to get the little tobacco stick to catch.  The metal ‘tink’ of a high-end lighter lid closing.  Hux inhaling.

The smell that hits Kylo’s nose is different from the harsh smell of cigarettes he knows.  It’s earthier, a little spicier.  Not like the cigars Han and Uncle Chewie smoke, though. It’s lighter.  He’d almost assume it was hookah, but there was no apparatus.  

He glances up.  Hux is breathing out a stream of smoke, barely distinguishable against the dark sky.  The cigarette is in his right hand, his left tucked into his trouser pocket.  The man leans back against the railing, head tilted up toward the inky sky.  His tie is gone, the top button of his shirt undone.

When he inhales again, he slants a look at Kylo.  Studies him with a neutral face.  Kylo feels his shoulders rise defensively, and turns his face away to look back out into the night-shrouded landscape.  Waits for whatever condemnation Hux will fling at him, like so many arrows Kylo knows he deserves. 

And waits.

When it doesn’t come, he risks a quick, darting glance.  Hux isn’t even looking at him, still focused on the clear night above.

“Well?” Kylo demands, raising his head.

Hux inhales.  Exhales.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to yell at me too?  Tell me what a fuck-up I am?  Go on and do it, I don’t care to wait for it all night.”

Hux looks at him again then, a sideways slide of his eye.  He blows another sweet-smelling stream of smoke out into the night.

“I was not aware of any issues.  Did I miss something?”

“Please. The whole house heard.  Don’t insult me.”

“While my particular brand of humor certainly flies over your head on numerous occasions, and I admit to mocking you many times, this is not one of either.  You’ll have to be more specific.”

Kylo feels like choking, like screaming.  What sick sort of game is Hux playing here?  The whole staff knows he’s a brat.  They call him the spoiled prince when they think he can’t hear.  Some of them just don’t care and say it to his face. They’re not even wrong. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, any argument, any fight, he’s involved in is immediate his fault.  Does Hux really think he’s that stupid? Kylo opens his mouth to snarl, and then shuts it.

Whatever.  

He’s tired all of a sudden, no fight left in him.  He just wants to either topple off the edge of the balcony like he was thinking about earlier, or go curl up in bed.  But getting up and walking the twenty feet to it seems like too much effort.

He stays where he is.

Tucks his face back against his knees and sighs, closing his eyes.

A hand in his hair makes him jump.  He nearly does fall over the edge, except Hux has him around the waist, dragging him against his chest with a small grunt of pain.  When Kylo is safely sitting back on the stone railing though, Hux does not release him.  Just presses Kylo’s head to his chest and runs his gloved fingers through it as he takes another puff.

He’s warm.  Kylo doesn’t want to move.  Just wants to keep leaning into this strength and breathing in the strange smelling smoke and do nothing for the rest of his life.  His arms rise, slip gently around Hux’s sides.  He remembers what happened in Hux’s room, and he does not want a repetition.

His shoulders relax as he sighs into the smooth cotton of Hux’s shirt.  Hux’s fingers keep up their slow petting.  The slight pain as tangles are combed out only makes Kylo feels safe and small and calm for the first time all evening.  The silence is soothing.

“What  _ are  _ you smoking?” he asks at last.

“Clove cigarettes.”

Kylo starts laughing against Hux’s chest.  Presses his nose to the shirt buttons.

“Shit, you’re so old.”

That hand sinks into his hair and  _ yanks _ .  Not enough to move him, but enough to hurt.  The moan is out before he can stop it.  He freezes, and so does Hux.  Kylo waits for him to move away.  Instead, that gloved hand applies steady pressure, tipping Kylo’s head back on his neck.  He goes with it.

Hux’s face is partially in shadow, which makes his face nearly impossible to read.  He’s studying Kylo intensely, though.

“Would you like to try it?” he asks softly, roughly.   Kylo is nodding before he can help himself, his hair pulling at the firm grip. He thinks he’d agree to anything Hux asked, if it was in that voice. 

He expects Hux to hand him the cigarette.  Instead, the man takes another deep inhale, then bends down, still holding his hair.  Then his mouth is against Kylo’s, a steady pressure as he exhales.

Kylo gasps, chokes, then grabs Hux’s shirt as he pulls away.  The other man raises his brow.

“Another.” Kylo demands, terrified even as he asks that he’s already screwed this up.

“Spoiled child.” Hux responds, but he takes another inhale.  Bends down again.  Does not remove his mouth until Kylo has taken all of it, given it back.  Before retreating, his mouth presses against Kylo’s a little firmer, rubs gently.

Kylo tightens his fingers in the back of Hux’s shirt and prays to a God he doesn’t even believe in that nothing will interrupt them this time as Hux takes another inhale and bends down again.

* * *

 

Hux comes back from an early morning run sometime in early December to find his bedroom door ajar.  He eyes it with distrust.  Saturdays meant nearly everyone in the house slept in, and none of the aides even came in.  He takes careful, slow steps toward the opening, slipping a small knife out of his sweats pocket.  Deploying it, he pushes the door open swiftly.

“ _ SURPRISE! _ ”

He blinks.  Then blinks again.  Scattered around what he tends to think of as the sitting room are a small number of people who shouldn’t be there.  That he knows all of them is the only reason he’s not knifing anyone.

Phasma gets up from the settee where she’s entwined with Rey, grinning like the fiend she is.  He flips the blade he’s holding closed and stuff it back into his pocket before he lets her sling an arm around his shoulders and drag him further into the room.  Finn is sitting on Poe’s lap in one of the over-large wing-back chairs. 

Kylo Ren is sitting in the other one, looking about three-quarters asleep and like he regrets all the life choices that led him here.  He holds a steaming mug between his over-large hands.  The ginger kitten, which Hux has taken to calling Millicent, is curled up against Rey’s hip on the settee.  She’s not really a kitten anymore, but she’s still tiny.

“To what do I owe this...pleasure?” he asks, stiffly. There is a cake sitting on the coffee table, surrounded by more mugs and a couple of carafes. If one of them does not contain strong coffee, Hux is going back to his earlier plan to stab them all.

“It’s your anniversary.” Phasma tells him cheerfully.  She’s always been an early bird.  Hux absently wonders how this works with Rey, who’s schedule is hectic and all over the place.

“Anniversary of  _ what _ ?”

“You’ve been working with Snoodles over there, and you’re still here after two months.  It’s a record.”

Ren glares at Phasma blearily, flipping her the bird without releasing either hand from his cup .  Hux is more surprised by his conscious presence than he is by the rest of these idiots put together.

“Ren, how are you even awake this early?”

Kylo lets go of his death grip around his mug with one hand and points at Rey, who simply gives a fiendish grin to match Phasma’s and continues to stroke a purring Millicent.  Hux notes absently that Kylo’s hair looks a bit damp, like he’d gone to bed with it wet.

“Before you start snapping about parties, don’t worry. Finn gets one if he lasts this long, too.”

“Phasma, it’s seven-thirty on a Saturday morning.  This could have been postponed to a more reasonable hour.”

“And give you the chance to slip away the second you saw us coming?  Ha, fat chance.”

Since this would have been exactly Hux’s reaction, he can’t deny it. He toys with the idea of sending them all away anyway.  He wants a shower and his side still hurts a little.  He wants to nurse his wounds in private.  But they’re all, with the exception of a still half-dead Kylo, looking at him with cheery, hopeful faces. He sighs.

“There had better be coffee in one of those, or I’m murdering the lot of you.”

He thinks it might be a sign that he’s losing his touch when all any of them do is laugh.

* * *

 

_ Hands grip his arms, pull him down.  He thrashes wildly, which only makes those hands tighten.  He feels like he’s falling and flying at the same time.  Voices are whispering, words he can’t hear.   _

_ Red and blue flash at the corners of his eyes.  Sudden cold.  Is that snow? _

_ Rey stands in front of him, holding a glowing blue stick.  He opens his mouth to say something, anything.  Before he can, she pounces on him.  He goes down in a heap.  Is he bleeding?  How?  He can’t seem to breath. _

_ Rey raises that glowing sword, and he opens his mouth the scream-- _

Kylo wakes suddenly, face down in his pillow enough to smother him.  He’s sweating where he’s wrapped in his blankets, but his feet are sticking out of the bottom so they’re freezing at the same time.  Rolling onto his back, he shakes the blankets off to lay spread-eagled.  Pants as he stares up at the ceiling.  He’s shaking.  Whether from the cold or from the nightmare, he’s not sure.

As his mind becomes clearer, he can’t help but think the entire dream was a holdover from Rey kicking his ass so much in those stupid self-protection lessons Hux keeps making him do.  He gets revenge every once in awhile, but she’s so quick and slippery.  Like a fucking eel or something.

“Meow.”

What?

“Muuurow~.”

The fuck?

Kylo rolls over in bed, peering over the edge to see the floor.  Barely visible in the darkness, the cat, Millicent, Hux calls her (and who the fuck calls a cat  _ Millicent _ , Hux, honestly, how old  _ are  _ you?) stares up at him, tail twitching back and forth.  He stares back for a moment.  

“Rrrrreow!”

“Fucking  _ what _ ?  What do you want?”

She walks in a  tight circle, then moves back toward Hux’s slightly open door.  Kylo will admit nothing about that.

When she gets to it, she looks back at him.  Seeing him looking at her from the bed seems to piss her off.  She meows angrily again, tail lashing even crazier.

“ _ What _ , you stupid cat?”

Another imperious meow as she sits by the door, watching him.  Kylo can’t help but think this is getting a little creepy.

“Either tell me what you want or go away.  I want to sleep.”

She gets up, vanishes into Hux’s room.  Kylo rolls back onto his back, fumbling for the covers.

“ _ Merowr _ !”

Millicent is back, her head poking around the door.  If Kylo didn’t know better, he’d say she was looking at him like he was an idiot.  She stalks back into the room, halfway to his bed.  Meows again.  Paces back to the door, tail a-twitching.  She’d better not want what Kylo thinks she wants.

“Fuck no.  This is not the goddamn twilight zone, and I’m not making it easy for you to murder me by walking into the slaughter.  Which is what Hux will do if I show up in his room at -” he glances at the glowing clock face on his phone, “two-thirty in the fucking morning.  Beat it.”

He tries not to think too hard about the fact that he’s  _ conversing with a bloody cat _ at two-thirty in the morning.  Millicent either doesn't understand him, or she’s just not going to take no for an answer.  The next five minutes see her moving between Kylo’s bed and the door, still meowing in that annoying, drawn out way.

At this point, Kylo figures that at least when Hux kills him for this, he won’t have to listen to the damn cat anymore.

“Fine.  Fuck you, fine!  You win, you fuzzy asshole.”

He throws the blankets off, swings his legs to the freezing floor.  Has to dodge a suddenly affectionate Millicent, who is twining around his legs as he moves toward the slightly open door.  Now he’s definitely sure she’s trying to kill him.  He’s about to tell her he’d changed his mind, hand on the doorknob, when he hears it.

The sound of what might be sobs or whimpers.

Hux?  Is Hux hurt?

Kylo pulls the door open, pokes his head in.  It’s even darker than his room inside, so he can’t see much.  Millicent trots into the shadows, clearly expecting him to follow.

He does so, slowly, feeling with one hand in front of him in case he runs into something.  The noises get louder as he moves father in, though not by much.  They sound muffled, like they’re coming through a pillow, or someone’s clenched teeth.  There are pauses every once in awhile, which make  _ Kylo  _ pause, losing his sense of direction.

Eventually, his hand hits the foot board.  Kylo orients himself, turning toward what he knows is the front of the bed.  The whimpering seems to come from right in front of him.  His muscles are tight from stress, his guts like ice.

“Hux?”

He grimaces into the dark.  His voice sounds tighter and higher than it should. He clears his throat, tries again, surprised that Hux isn’t already roaring at him to get out.

“Hux?  Are you okay?”

No answer except for the sound of something shifting in the sheets.   Carefully, Kylo lowers himself to the mattress.  He pats along the fabric gently, until his hand lands on what feels like a hip.  His brain stutters a little.  Is Hux-

Before he can contemplate if Hux sleeps naked, a hand seizes his wrist in a grip like iron.  He doesn’t even get the yelp out all the way before he’s flying forward to land on his back, weight pinning him down with an arm across his windpipe.  

For a moment, he can’t breath. He scrabbles at the hard planes of Hux’s shoulder and arm, digs his nails in when his head starts to get light.  When he tries to gasp, a whistling squeaky noise comes out, but no air comes back in.

Then the arm is loosening, although it still lays threateningly across Kylo’s throat.  Kylo drags in gasps of air as above him, the weight shifts slightly.  Then a light flicks on to his right.  It’s momentarily too bright, and he shuts his eyes against the sudden pain.

“ _ Kylo _ ?  What in red and silver hell are you  _ doing  _ in here?”

Okay, it should be illegal for anyone to sound that sexy right now.

Hux’s weight moves off of him entirely, with a speed that makes it seem like touching Kylo burns Hux.  He’s a little grateful, since he’s half-hard from the rough handling slash near-death experience, and this is already awkward enough without having to explain his pain boner to the angry red-head next to him.

“Ask your fucking cat.” Kylo rasps, rubbing his throat with one hand.  

“She is your cat, not mine.”

“Yeah, because she totally sleeps in  _ my  _ bed.”

Hux glares at him, clearly not happy to be awake at this early hour.  Millicent chooses this moment to jump up onto the bed, moving toward Hux and purring.  As Hux sits up to run his hand over the cat’s fur, Kylo watches with something he will never admit is jealousy.  The horrid animal is preening like she knows it, too.

When they’ve been quiet for some time (and doesn’t it always work like this between them?  With long pauses while they try to navigate whatever  _ this  _ is that keeps coming up?) Kylo makes a show of stretching.  Through his mostly closed lashes, he sees the hand stroking Millicent stop suddenly.  The cat makes a sound he imagines equates to feline disgust and jumps back off the bed.  Once she’s gone, Kylo stops stretching and tilts his head back to look up at Hux.

Who wears a carefully blank face.

Kylo turns onto his side and inches toward him a little.  Those red eyebrows pinch together, but Hux does not move away.  Kylo takes a few moments to examine all the scars on display.  The muscles shift and ripple as Hux makes tiny adjustments.  Whether he’s trying to get away or stay balanced, Kylo can’t tell.  Dark eyes meet light.  Kylo props his cheek on one hand.

“So, what were you dreaming about?”

He is expecting some pithy comment or sarcastic response, things he sees as Hux trademarks.  What happens instead is that Hux’s face seems to wash white, like all blood is drained from it.  The other man’s lips tighten, the lines around them going from barely noticeable to suddenly stark.  The frown lines above his eyes get deeper, like Hux is angry.

Or in pain.

Then Hux rolls over in one smooth motion, leaving Kylo staring at his extremely well-defined and scarred back.  He reaches out, flicks the light back off.  Sounds and movement as Hux gets comfortable.

“Go back to bed, Kylo.”

There in the pitch darkness, Kylo wonders about what he’s seeing.  Or not seeing.  _ How am I supposed to get back to bed without killing myself if you turn off the fucking light? _ He demands of Hux silently. Angry now, he’s planning on going back to bed.  Planning on stomping the whole way out, too.  It would serve Hux right to be kept awake with Kylo.  Kylo didn’t ask to wake Hux from his nightmares!

His nightmares…

Those whimpers are replaying in his head, now that he’s thinking of them again.  Hux never sounds like that.  Like a child...like he’s scared.  Hux isn’t scared of anything.

Is he?

Kylo bites his lip.  In all likelihood, he’s going to end up with a black eye for his troubles.  He should get up and walk away.  Go back to bed.

Right now.

Any time.

This very second.

Cursing himself, he reaches out his left hand.  Cautiously, slowly, he extends it until he brushes against soft fabric and warm flesh beneath.  There’s an indrawn breath in the darkness, not his own.  Carefully, he slides his hand upward, along Hux’s hip, his waist, to where the bottom of his ribs begin.  His fingers run along skin of a slightly different texture.  Mentally, he places where his fingers are in his mind’s eye.  Bites his lip when he realizes it’s the new scar.  Beneath his gentle fingers, Hux breathes in slowly, like he thinks that if he moves, he’ll scare Kylo off.

He’s right.  Not that Kylo will ever admit it.  But he’s right.

A deeper breath, ribs expanding outward under Kylo’s fingers.

“Kylo, go to bed.”

It’s now or never, Kylo supposes.  Likely, he’ll blame what he’s about to do on severe lack of sleep and his well-known brand of bad decisions.  Taking a deep breath of his own, he shifts his hips forward until he’s pressed up against all that glorious bare skin of Hux’s back.  His arms wind around Hux, one tucking into his arm in the front.  The other he slides under Hux’s neck and around.

Hux goes very stiff.

“Kylo, I said go to bed.”

“I  _ am  _ in bed.” Kylo mumbles, nuzzling the back of Hux’s neck.  He silently laments that he’s too tired to push this further.  That would have been well worth any punishment dealt out.

Hux’s other hand seizes his in the dark, and for a moment, he and Kylo fight over the embrace.  Hux tries to push his hands and arms off, and Kylo simply clings like an octopus.  When this has gone on for a couple of minutes, Hux sighs in defeat and goes limp.

A long gap of silence, in which Kylo wonders if Hux actually likes being held, or if he’s just biding his time until he can strangle Kylo for this.

There’s a meow, and the sound of the mattress sinking under a light weight.  Then Kylo feels soft fur brush against his hand as Millicent makes herself comfortable next to their joined arms.

“Fucking surrounded.” he hears Hux grumble.  It’s muffled, so he must be falling asleep himself...or trying to smother himself in the pillow.  Kylo nuzzles him again, enjoys the tiny shiver that rolls against his front.

“Go to sleep, Hux.”

“Don’t coddle me, you brat…”

This comeback is definitely slurred, like Hux is more than half-way asleep again.  Kylo grins against the back of his neck, enjoying the prickling of the short hairs there against his face, and joins him in the sweet darkness of sleep.

* * *

 

The thump of bare feet on the exercise mats is background noise as Hux puts Kylo through his newly acquired paces.  Throws a punch, watches his charge duck out of the way.  Feints with the other hand for Kylo’s stomach.  The other man catches his arm, turning and using his own momentum to send Hux rolling onto the floor.  Hux carries through with the motion, comes back to his feet.  Spins on his left heel to smile broadly at the other man.

“Good!  One more time!”

Kylo  _ beams _ .

Dropping into a guard stance, he faces Hux.  This time, Hux goes in for a grapple.  His hands close over Kylo’s shoulders, across his collar bones.  Kylo brings his elbows around sharply, breaking the hold.  He steps lightly on Hux’s left insole, lifts a knee to tap his stomach.  Hux allows himself to stagger, more playacting than injured.  Then he rallies, circles Kylo’s biceps, moving to throw him down.  

Hux is not expecting for Kylo to seize his arms in turn.  For him to fall backward, with a foot catching Hux high on the thigh.  The world spins as Hux goes ass over teakettle.  He finds himself on his back, Kylo above him, sitting on his hips. 

Kylo lets go, probably to crow about his victory.  Hux takes advantage of his lapse, flexes his hips up against Kylo’s greater weight.  Wraps his legs around Kylo’s and  _ heaves  _ them to the side. They roll again.  When they settle this time, Hux straddles Kylo’s hips. 

He has also pinned Kylo’s arms above his head, crossing them at the wrist to make for an easier grip.  Their faces are inches apart, harsh panting breaths between them.  Kylo struggles and rolls and bucks.  Hux remains immovable.  At last he flops back against the mat, defeated.

Not removing his grip from Kylo’s wrists, Hux uses his other hand to sweep his disordered hair back from his forehead.  He feels his thigh throb, knows he’ll have a bruise there by this evening. 

He realizes it’s not the only thing in that region that’s throbbing.

Kylo looks up at him, still gasping for breath.  He’s drenched in sweat, chest bare and glistening.  His damp hair is starting to escape it’s tail, leaving wet tendrils pasted to the side of his face and neck.

“Well done.” Hux says at last.

“Not well enough when I’m still on the ground.”

Hux feels a smile curve his lips.

“Brat, the day you can best me in a sparring match is the day I retire, for I would be unable to safe-guard even myself.”

That patented pout comes across his charge’s face.

“But I’ve been practicing!”

“And it shows.  You did very well.”

Kylo blinks up at him, his wrists still in Hux’s grip.  A flush starts to steal it’s way over his face.  He looks painfully young and hopeful.  Desire shoots through Hux’s veins, quick and hot and overwhelming.

“Really?”

He clears his throat.

“Really.  You pulled Rey’s favorite move off perfectly.”

Hux releases Kylo’s wrists at last, gets swiftly to his feet.  He turns his back on the other man under the guise of getting water.  In truth, he’s painfully hard in his sweatpants. How Kylo did not notice, he isn’t sure, but he’s grateful all the same. The drape of the fabric hides the issue a small amount, but it’s still obvious to anyone who might glance at Hux’s crotch.  Which Kylo was doing with increasing frequency as the days and weeks passed.  

Kylo is still talking.  Hux tries to tune back into what he’s saying.

“... other end of that throw so much, I could do it in my sleep.  I just think Rey likes getting to kick me in the balls a lot.  She’s scary, and...”

Hux makes a humming noise, still not turning around.  Mentally, he’s running through calculations.  When was the last time he’s had any sort of sexual release?  The answer is startling.  Nearly fourth months.

He also feels a little relief when he realizes this.  Surely his reactions to Kylo, which have been growing in frequency and intensity,  are just the results of a libidio too long denied.  Yes, he’s fond of the brat, but to desire someone so…

When he realizes he’s coming up with good qualities as well as bad for Kylo, Hux knows he needs to do something.  He must be  _ desperate  _ if he’s starting to see good in this man.

“Hux?  Are you even listening?”

He glances at Kylo, who is wiping off his chest with a towel.  He’s scowling at Hux, as if he’s had to repeat himself more than once.  Hux clears his throat.

“My apologies.  I just realized I forgot an appointment this evening.”

“Tonight?  It’s Friday.  Won’t all the businesses be closed?”

“It’s not a business appointment.  It’s a social engagement.”

“Phasma’s joining Rey at my mother’s soiree tonight, and since Finn’s on duty, Poe will be attached to my hip all night.  So I  _ know  _ that can’t be true.”

Still not turning around, Hux gives a glare of his own.

“I do have other friends, brat.”

“Yeah, right.”

Kylo comes across the room, getting into Hux’s space like he’s been making a habit of recently.  Another surge of lust goes through Hux as the scent of Kylo’s sweaty skin hits his nose.  He wants to reach out, drag him closer by his damp hair.  Toss him down onto the mats. Hux imagines ripping Kylo’s pants off, spreading him open, and fucking him right here, where anyone could walk in.  Suck bruises into that fair skin until Kylo is sobbing, begging Hux to never let him go.  And he won’t.

It is this last thought that stills his hands before they move.  His horror at realizing how badly he has neglected his own needs staggers him.  He has never been tempted to step over the professional line. He will not start now.

“My personal life is none of your business, Ren.  Kindly take your nosy questions and bugger off.” he snaps

Ignoring the shock and hurt on Kylo’s face, Hux turns and storms out of the gym.  Upon reaching his rooms, he picks up his cellphone, flicks through his contacts until he finds the particular number his in looking for.  Hits the call button.  Shame curdles into his stomach.

It only rings twice before a voice is purring across the line.

“Why, Brendol, it’s been positively  _ ages _ .  Where  _ have  _ you been, gorgeous man?”

“Busy.  Are you free this evening?”

If anything, the purr in the other voice gets deeper.

“Oh,  _ Brendol _ .  I’m  _ always  _ free for you.”

* * *

 

Hux takes her up against the wall of her apartment.  She smiles down at him when he hoists her higher, the red of her lipstick smeared.  He has a mental flash of Kylo, wearing a darker shade in an odd pattern, shooting Hux a sultry look from across the room as he moved with the bodies on the dance floor.

Shaking his head to clear it, he thrusts harder.  Her moans sound like cat wails, but her body is a welcoming haven.  Warm and soft, he sinks into it over and over.  Even as his mind tells him all the ways she’s not like Kylo.  

She doesn’t smell right, more like cloying perfume than the musk Kylo wears.  Her hair is blonde, lit by the harsh light of a lamp nearby, rather than silky black.  Her nails, when they score the backs of his arms and shoulders, feel fake.  Less sharp than Kylo’s carefully manicured ones.

Kylo would be moaning.  Crying.  Asking Hux for everything he would give him.  Begging to come.  Begging for permission.   He’d arch his neck, tossing that arrogant head.  He’d take everything Hux would give him.

Caught up in the fantasy now, Hux imagines Kylo up against the wall.  Bent over the kitchen counter.  Reaching for Hux’s fly with a seductive smile as dropped to the floor.

Gritting his teeth, imagining Kylo on his knees, he finally comes.

Afterward, he is drained and unsatisfied.  She offers him a glass of whiskey, which he refuses.  After some pleasantries back and forth, where he pretends to care at all about her life, she drives him back to the Organa mansion.  When he goes to walk to the gate, holding his coat over one arm, shirt untucked and tie askew, she grabs him by his belt loops.  Reels him in for a kiss that is both sloppy and, at least for Hux, uninteresting.  There’s a shattering sound in the distance, reminding him of the gathering taking place tonight.

She presses kisses to his neck, his jaw.  Whispers that he should call her more often.  She misses him.  Hux has no idea with what he responds, only that it must be satisfactory, because she smile.  Gets back in her car and drives away.

He makes his way through the gate, not looking at the security guard, or acknowledging their whistle and shout of approval.  Music spills out of the back veranda, where the Organa-Solo soiree is still in full swing.  Hux very pointedly heads for the servant’s entrance on the side.  The last thing he needs is a more public walk of shame.

His focus prevents him from noticing Kylo Ren in the shadows, dressed like some sort of runway model, with a broken glass at his feet and a broken heart in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I owe Kylo an apology now....oops.


	5. Where Do We Go From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where it takes them far too long to talk to each other like actual, mature adults. Yes, Hux, I'm looking at you, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, my beta is a freaking champ. Rebecca, girl, I love you.

It’s hard to tell where the bodies on the bed end or begin, which limb belongs to which man.  They’re tangled together, held by sweat and sighs and moans of pleasure.  Kylo’s dark painted nails slide through sleek blonde hair.  He whispers in the man’s ear, things like ‘faster’ and ‘harder’ and ‘ _yes_ ’. Takes the earring there in his teeth and tugs.  Another man’s mouth is tracing his neck, leaving little suckling bruises up and down it’s length.  Fingers reach around from behind him, sliding along his chest.

The blonde is fucking him eagerly now, his cock bottoming out in Kylo with every thrust.  His hands grip Kylo’s arm and hip, nails digging small crescents into the tender skin. He’s grunting into Kylo’s ear, with each thrust and slide of his cock in Kylo’s ass making him louder and louder. Kylo digs his heels into the guy’s back.  His nails bite into one bicep.  

The other man, who Kylo thinks might be a brunette, reaches around and starts tugging Kylo’s cock.  His next moan is breathier, head thrown back.

“Yes.  Just like that. _So_ good.  Mmmmm.”

The couple whisper things back, dirty epithets and sweet praise and moans of their own. They probably told Kylo their names at some point, but he can’t recall them.  Not like it matters, anyway.

The brunette drags the nails of his unoccupied hand down Kylo’s ribs.  A little more gently than Kylo wants, but still good.  He turns his head, takes that clever mouth in a kiss.  The blonde quickens his thrusts, leans in to bite at Kylo’s neck as he comes in him.  With the brunette’s hand still twisting, Kylo falls right after, jerking his head away to cry out his release.  As he comes down, he sends a smoldering look at his silent guard over the blonde’s shoulder.

Hux leans against the room’s far wall, close enough to move if Kylo is threatened, but far enough not to feel present in the proceedings.  His hands are, as ever, crossed in front of him, one hand holding the wrist of the other.

He’s not even looking.   _The bastard_.

Kylo wants this to hurt.  He wants Hux to feel as much pain as he is.  Three more times he’s seen Hux and his little blonde slut. Three times in as many days.  Hux coming in more disheveled than Kylo has ever seen him, with red lipstick smeared like blood along his jaw and neck and shirt collar. Smelling like cheap, watery perfume.

He barely feels the two men he’s with shift him.  He does feel the brunette slid his cock inside.  He moans loudly, digging his nails into the blonde’s shoulder.

Hux glances at him.  Kylo tries to put every bit of hate and rage into his eyes as the brunette starts to thrust, chasing his own pleasure as the blonde twists one of Kylo’s nipples in his fingers.  After a quick moment to reassure himself that Kylo’s noise was from pleasure, Hux looks away again, face utterly blank.  Kylo bares his teeth.

Bastard.

* * *

 

Hux trails behind Kylo as they descend the rickety stairs of the dilapidated apartment building in which the couple lived.  Frankly, he thought the entire place was a fire hazard, and should be torched to the ground.  

With those two in it, preferably.  

In front of him, Kylo stumbles on the last step.  Hux’s arm shoots out without thought, catching his charge around the middle and yanking him back against Hux’s chest.

The overwhelming scent of sex hits his nostrils.  Sweat, musk, smoke.  His grip tightens around Kylo’s waist as rage slips through him.  Realizing that prison is not appealing, Hux lets the breath out slowly in an attempt to keep from walking back up the death-trap stairs to murder the two other men.

“Let me go.”

Kylo’s voice, far colder than Hux has been used to of late, catches his attention.  Kylo isn’t looking at him.  Hasn’t even turned his head.  That pale face looks carved from ice, the expression is so remote.  Until Kylo’s lips thin a little.

“I said, put me down.  Why are you touching me?”

The words sting, although Hux would never admit it aloud.  He releases Kylo sharply, letting him descend the last few feet and start toward the limousine.  It’s freezing outside, but Hux just stands on the second to last step watching Kylo walk stride from him, his arm feeling cold and empty.

He’d known he didn’t mean much to the brat, not really, but you’d think he could at least be civil by this point in their relationship.  Hux does not acknowledge the pain in his chest.  It has nothing to do with Kylo’s apparent rejection.  Nothing to do with Hux thinking about him even as either of them sleep with someone else.

Nothing.

At all.

Jess Pava stands at the door, holding it open and giving him a strange look.  When he still hasn’t moved, she begins to shift from foot to foot in the cold air.  With a sigh, Hux starts walking, dreading having to breathe in the scent of sex and sweat and Kylo for the entire drive back to the mansion.   As he grits his teeth, his phone vibrates in his pocket.  He checks it as he slides inside the warm leather interior, facing Kylo, who is watching him with a cold face and burning eyes.

_Free 2nite? i miss u. ;)_

His finger is poised to delete the message.  Glancing up, Hux meets Kylo’s smoldering gaze.  He thinks of those same eyes watching him over the shoulder of some blonde who was screwing Kylo to orgasm…he looks back at his phone and types a response.

_Tomorrow at seven._

Then Hux looks out the window, ignoring the rage in those dark orbs.

Bastard.

\--

Two days later sees Phasma’s car idling just outside the doors to the Organa-Solo mansion as Rey, Finn, and Kylo exit.  She has to admit that Kylo cuts a lovely figure, in some sort of tailcoat-slash-gown of his usual black.  His hair pulled up into a bun accentuates the long column of his pale throat.  He glitters with all the flash dripping from his ears, dangling from his fingers, and encircling said neck.  His lips are vivid red.

He’s also currently enfolding himself into a gorgeous lined leather trench coat that Phasma thinks she might want to just rip off him and keep for herself.

The trio parts with what seems like extreme rudeness on the part of Ren, with Finn shooting Rey an apologetic look over his shoulder as he follows his charge into the limo that waits in front of Phasma.  Pava, the chauffeur, closes the door and hoofs it around to the driver door.  Phasma can’t really blame her.  It’s currently just above thirty on the fahrenheit scale.

Rey climbs into the passenger seat, looking at what Phasma is covetously eyeing.

“Don’t even think about it.  That’s a four figure coat.” she says as the limo pulls away.  She turns away to scrub surreptitiously at her eyes.

Phasma gives a sigh.  She makes a good living, certainly, but not nearly enough to allow that kind of spending on a fucking jacket.  Then she looks at Rey, and waits.

Rey fiddles with her coat, fiddles with the seat belt and getting it fastened just so, fiddles with her chipping nail polish…

“Wow, this stuff is crap for how much I paid for it-”she starts, glancing up with puffy eyes.  Phasma pins her with a look.  Rey blinks, swallows, looks down.  When she still won’t answer, Phasma puts the car in park and then reaches across the gear shift to stroke a hand along her cheek.

“What’s wrong, love?  I saw Wing-Wang get snappy.  I thought he was better?”

Rey nuzzles into her hand, giving a long, tired sigh.

“We all did. But…”

“But?”

“Ever since the party, he’s been...mean.  Even meaner than he used to be.  He actually threw a vase at me today.”

Phasma recoils.

“He fucking _what_?  Bren let him do that?”

Rey angrily wipes a tear away with her coat sleeve.  Phasma knows how much she hates to cry.  Momentarily considers trailing the limo and having a private chat with Kylo Ren that would involve a lot of pain on his part.

“He hasn’t been here.  He spends all his days off gone lately.  I was talking to Mitch-”

“Who?”

“Mitch is the night guard on the front gate.  Anyway, I was talking to him, and he said Mr. Hux has a lady friend that he’s been seeing lately.”

Phasma’s eyes narrow in speculation.  She gnaws at her lip a moment, and then asks:

“This woman, is she blonde?”

Rey blinks.  Another tear slips down her nose, and Phasma reaches over to wipe it away absentmindedly.

“I-I _think_ so, but it was a ‘mentioned-in-passing’ sort of thing.  I haven’t seen her.”

“Is Bren here now?”

“He came back in as we left.  Kylo got worse around then.  You think he’d just _say_ something instead of taking it out on us.”

Phasma gives a little hum, then turns the car off completely.  Rey looks at her quizzically.

“I’ll just be five minutes.  I’ll leave the keys, in case you want the heat again.”

“No, it’s okay.  I’ll come with you…”

Phasma stops just before opening the door, looking back over her shoulder.

“This isn’t going to be a friendly meeting, love.  You may not want to.”

The look Rey gives her is both adoring and stubborn.

“I _know_ that.  I know _you_ , and I know that look, Ellie.  I’m tagging along to keep you from killing him.”

Phasma grins.

“This is just one reason why I love you.  Always looking out for me.”

“Hey, if you’re in jail, who’ll keep me in the way I’ve grown accustomed?”

Phasma is laughing as they jog back into the mansion.

* * *

 

Hux is reaching for his shirt after a shower, having barely pulled his pants on, when he hears angry footsteps pounding up the hall.

Was Ren back already?  He has been throwing terrific tantrums lately, although not any that Hux has been around to see.  To Hux, he’s colder than the world outside, snide and sniping, but without the play it used to contain.  He does not come near Hux, has flat-out refused his last hand-to-hand lesson, and while Hux hasn’t actually witnessed anything, the jumpiness of the staff tells him that physical violence has made a reappearance.

What on earth could have caused this bloody back-slide?

“ _Bren, I want a word!_ ”

Phasma’s shout is Hux’s only warning before his bedroom door explodes open, sending Millicent streaking under the bed in panic. It bounces off the wall with a loud crack, and swings back, nearly hitting Rey.  She’s come in on Phasma’s heels, still wearing her outside coat, and her eyes red and puffy like she’s been crying.

“Hell.  What’s Kylo done now?”

“Thrown a vase at my girlfriend, but that’s not why I’m here.”

She’s standing over him, hands on hips.  The thin pinstripes of her suit make her look longer and leaner.  On her face is a look that Hux has only seen turned on himself a handful of times.  But each time boded ill indeed.

“Then why-”

She hauls her hand back and smacks him round the back of the head. Rage washes red into his vision.  Hux leaps to his feet with a snarl.  He’s facing her now, hands clenched at his sides.

“What in the name of hell was _that_ for, Eleanora?!”

She gets right in his face, towering over him with her extra inches.  She only does that when she’s furious with him.  Usually when she thinks he’s done something monumentally idiotic.  Rey is watching from a few feet away, looking child-like and lost.  She’s hugging herself, coat still on.

“ _That_ was for going back to _her_!”

Hux flinches.  There could only be one ‘her’ when Phasma speaks in just that tone.  Then he rallies.

“My personal life is _none of your business_ -”

“It bloody well is, you giant fucking snot-rocket!  The hell are you _thinking_ ? Literally, _what_ . _The hell_. Is going through that dense brain of yours?!”

“You’ll have to be more specific, _Eleanora_.  You find so much of my behavior questionable.”

“Don’t get uppity with me, asshole.  You know I mean sleeping with that bottle blonde, grabby-fingered bimbo, _again_ .  Didn’t you learn the last time? Or the time before that?  She’s _poison_ , Bren!  She pulls you down, and the stupid fucker that you are, you going trotting back whenever your fucking zipper gets too tight.”

“Again, what business it is of _yours_ , I’ve yet to determine-”

“I’m your friend, you ass!  I’m worried about you!  I know what happens when that bitch shows back up.”

“I have needs, Phasma.  I’m not a robot.”

She flings her hands in the air.

“ _Of course_ you’ve got needs, you idiot.  I’ve been watching.  But why _her_ ?  You had a perfectly willing partner right _here_!”

That shocks him enough to jolt him out of his rage.  His face twists in confusion.

“I distinctly hope you are not referring to yourself, Phasma-”

“No, you fuck-wit-”

“Would you stop interrupting me-”

She barrels right over him.

“-I’m talking about Solo!”

Now Hux is really lost.  He glances at Rey, wondering if she has any idea what Phasma is talking about.  Instead, she’s standing with her hands laced together in front of her mouth, watching Phasma pant.  When neither woman attempts to elaborate, he clears his throat.

“I’m very certain Mr. Solo is happily married to, and much in love with, the senator.”

“What?”

He keeps going.

“Where you came upon such a hair-brained, half-cocked idea is beyond me, Phasma, really.  The man and I barely interact at all.”

Phasma stares at him.  He knows that look, too.  She uses it when someone has just said something so momentously stupid, she’s trying to figure out how they’re related to the human species in the slightest.  Like she’s unsure of how they manage to breathe with so few brain cells.  Hux has never had that _particular_ expression leveled at him.  He can’t say it’s a pleasant experience.

At last she says, so soft he care barely hear her:

“Bren.  Don’t play stupid.  It doesn’t suit you.”

Instantly, he knows who she means.  He goes hot, then cold, spikes of ice driving through his gut and out into his extremities.  He feels light headed.  She doesn’t mean that.  She can’t.

“Phasma, Kylo Ren would only sleep with me for one of two reasons.  Either he is very, very, _very_ bored, or I am literally the last human being on the planet and he’s desperate.”

He can’t feel his lips move when he says that. He feels like someone else is controlling his body, and yet he doesn’t.  He can’t feel any part of his body, then he flushes hot again.  Feels the blush steal across his face.

Hers softens, all at once.  Now she looks so sad, as if he’s said something tragic rather than realistic.

“Oh.  Oh, _Bren_. Tell me you don’t believe that.”

“Believe what?  The truth?  Phasma, I’m not sure where you’ve gotten this preposterous idea, but it’s just that.  Preposterous.  Nonsensical.”

He needs to sit down.  He leans, nearly falls when the edge of his mattress is further away than he thinks.  He lowers himself down, ignoring his shaking arms.  She’s just finally lost it, that’s all.  He’s not thinking about all the interactions he and Ren have ever had.  Not thinking about the balcony, his bed, the gym…Ren’s eyes over the stranger’s shoulder, hooded and hot and angry.  

Not thinking about wanting to break the strange men’s bones for so much as looking at Ren...having to clamp his mouth shut each time he comes before Ren’s name can spill out.  Not contemplating how much he hates seeing bruises and marks on that lovely skin and knowing he didn’t put them there.

Hux buries his face in his hands, elbows propped on knees.  He’s trying desperately to keep his breathing even.  Thinks he’s probably failing.  Is the room spinning?  It feels like it is.

The mattress dips as Phasma sits next to him, places a hand on his shoulder.

“Geez, Bren.  If you’re this far gone for that brat, what are you doing messing around with _her_?  Can’t you see that’s why he’s acting out again?  He’s hurt!”

Hux shakes his head, but doesn’t respond. He feels sick, like he might hurl all over himself.  He wants everything to just stop.  For this entire mess to just go away, for life to leave him alone.  He never wanted this.  He does not want to have feelings of any sort for Kylo-fucking-Ren.

“He’s hardly hurting, Phasma.  He’s had new bed partners every single night.  I do believe Finn is both permanently scarred and picking up new ideas.  We’ll know for sure if Dameron begins to walk funny.”

“Bren, don’t change the subject.” she says, but she’s laughing a little under her breath.  Her hand is steady and calming, which he both appreciates and doesn’t.  At least she’s not attempting to be soothing. Or god forbid, _maternal_.  He thinks he might actually lose it if she does something so out of character.

“In all seriousness, Phasma, there isn’t anything between Ren and I.  He can barely tolerate my presence when it is _required_.  Certainly not outside of it. I’ve endured your little joke for this long because I was certain you saw it as I did--a jest.”

“What?”

“Mr. Hux, if you’re that oblivious, you deserve what you’re going through.”

“Uh-oh…” Hux hears Phasma murmur, which makes him look up.  It is only through long years of military training that he does not recoil from the very angry look on Rey Kenobi’s face.  It is a combination of Phasma’s ‘why are you so stupid’ look and something wholly unique and terrifying.  

Hux would like it to stop.  Right now.

“I...beg your pardon, Ms. Kenobi?”

“Oh, no, Bren, no.  Don’t-”

“You’re not pardoned, you arrogant, self-centered, bewailing nincompoop!  I don’t know what your problem is, but your stubborn fixation on being myopic to the extreme stops now.  Kylo Ren is, if not in love with you, then very interested.  Ridiculously so!”

He blinks.  She did not just say what he thinks she said.  Love?  Kylo Ren, love him?  The thought was so preposterous, so outlandish he wanted to laugh...so why wasn’t he laughing?

“Ms. Kenobi, I can assure you, he does not-”

“Don’t feed me that twaddle.  I sleep with the queen of bullshitters!”

Twaddle?  Has she honestly just said that?

“Now you’ve done it.” Phasma says with a sigh.  She shifts, trying to get comfortable, taking her hand from Hux’s shoulder and bracing both of them behind her on the mattress.

“Make her stop.” Hux murmurs out of the side of his mouth.  Rey’s eyes narrow dangerously.  Then she’s off on another round of very intelligent insults.  He’s not sure where she finds the time to breathe.

“Not a chance.”

“You’re a terrible friend.”

Phasma grins as Rey shows no sign of stopping any time soon.  Hux thinks the words ‘ _astigmatic, baseborn imbecile_ ’ actually just came out of her mouth.

“And you’re lucky to have me.”

* * *

 

Hux spends the next week dodging pushy people who want him to talk to Kylo Ren.  Which he really, _really_ does not want to do.  There’s nothing to talk about. There is no _thing_ between them.  No promises were made.  

No...anything, thank you very much, Poe.

He tries to remember that as Kylo takes one lover after another in a long stream.  Struggles to keep this in mind as he watches and listens and smells Kylo getting off with everyone who isn’t him.  

Especially since Hux isn’t getting laid at all now.

He has no idea what Phasma did, or even how she did it, but _she_ sent a single text to tell him never to make contact again.  Since several words had doubled or even tripled letters, Hux thinks her hands were shaking as she wrote it.

He doesn’t press.

Which is all well and good for Phasma, who has one of the loveliest (and liveliest) women Hux has ever met as her lover.   _He_ , on the other hand, is up celibate creek without a paddle.

So to speak.

When he cannot take even _one_ more insinuation or hint or outright comment that he should talk to Ren, he retreats into his room.  Slams and locks the door for good measure.  Finn will just have to get over the hurt feelings.  

He sits in silence for some time.  It’s early in the afternoon, and Kylo hasn’t stirred yet.  Getting up, Hux moves to the connecting door, puts his hand on the door knob.

He can’t turn it.

He wants to.  He knows he should.  Knows that whatever mess they’re all embroiled in won’t end without adult conversation.  He understands this, on an intellectual level.  But when he starts to move his muscles, he can hear the same echo of the Commandant, every time he got attached to anything.

_The sound of a smack is loud in his ears.  Pain explodes across his cheek and then his hands as the force of the blow sends his tiny form into the dirt._

_“_ **_Stupid_ ** _boy!  What is this waste?”_

_The Commandant was talking about the little garden Hux had been working on in secret for the last month.  Granted, he was seven, and knew next to nothing about gardening.  That is was more a bed of weeds, mud, and rocks than anything resembling an actual plant bed had never mattered to him.  He just knew he wanted to try._

_“I asked you a question, boy!”_

_Hiccups threaten to tear through Hux’s chest, but he knows that if he cries, things will only get worse.  He stands up slowly, puts his dirty hands behind his back.  He’s taken a rest position without thinking.  Doesn’t lift his head.  It’s easier to hide the tears in his eyes if he keeps them turned toward his mucked up shoes._

_“I-it’s a garden, sir.”_

_“This slop isn’t a garden.  It’s a mud hole.  Even if it wasn’t, Hux men don’t garden, like some sort of sissy woman.  Are you a sissy woman, boy?”_

_A sob nearly escapes from behind his teeth._

_“No.”_

_“No,_ **_what_ ** _?”_

_“No, sir.”_

_“Damn right.  Now clean this mess up, and_ **_stop that useless sniveling_ ** _.”_

_He watches without a sound as the Commandant tramples the little patch beneath his boots._

Hux lays his forehead against the door.  He knows, logically, that the Commandant has been dead for nearly three years.  He knows the man couldn’t do anything to Hux had he still be alive.  He’d never have gotten near Kylo Ren, or even the Organa-Solos.

He knows this, and yet…

He fears.  

He is afraid to reach for anything meaningful in his life.  First the Commandant, then the Army and its unpredictability.  The strongest lesson Hux has ever learned is that if he doesn’t get attached, he won’t get hurt.  If he doesn’t reach out, he’ll never have to worry about falling.  Even his squad mates, though he loves them, were kept at a distance.  Their deaths didn’t hurt so much then.

With a sigh through his painfully constricted chest, Hux takes his hand off the doorknob.  Goes back to his bed and lays down.

An hour passes as he stares at the ceiling.  He feels lonely in the extreme.  He’d really like a hug, but he’d sooner be interrogated than admit it.

But that thought leads to another.  To warm arms that held him after he scraped a knee as a child.  A soft curtain of fragrant red hair and a kind smile.  Pale hands stroking a fat, ugly persian. A tinny voice coming over a long distance call.  The yearning in his chest threatens to explode.

He fumbles for his phone, nearly knocks it onto the floor.  The new scar pulls a little as he saves it at the last minute.  With a deep breath, he dials a very particular number.

It rings several times.  He’s afraid that no one is home.  It’s late, where she is.  She’s probably gone to bed.   He’ll be left with this crushing weight, without anyone to turn to-

There is a click on the other end.  A woman’s sweet British accent.

“Hello?”

“...Hello, Mum…”

He could hear the warmth, even from an ocean away.

“My baby.”

* * *

 

Kylo sits on a stool in his front room, waiting for Jess to pull the limo around.  He brings his cigarette to his lips, inhales deeply.   Tries not to think about the flavor of cloves...tries not to think about anything.  He plans to get as roaringly drunk tonight as he always does, and find some piece of pretty tail to either bring home or go home with. Exactly what he will do tomorrow, the night after that, and so on.  His worth is skin deep.  

Doesn’t he know that by now?

The door connecting his suite to Hux’s swings open gently.  Kylo feels his shoulders stiffen.  

He’s heard Hux, a little earlier.  Hard not to, when the man was actually laughing. What was he supposed to do, just _not_ open the door a crack and listen? He’d been on the phone with some woman.  Kylo knew this because at some point, Hux had put his call on speaker phone.

Ren had heard the stupid fucking mutual ‘I love you’s.  

He feels bile at the back of his throat, swallows it down.  He’d already thrown up everything in his stomach when he’d heard that.  There’s nothing left in him now, except shame and pain and loathing for everything, himself included.

“Kylo.”

Kylo takes another puff, blows it out slow and doesn’t answer.  Instead of backing away like he has been for over a week, Hux comes further into the room. Moves to stand in front of him.  Kylo looks him up and down, hungry despite himself.

Stupid shirt and tie.  Stupid sexy eyepatch.  Stupid sexy trench coat with the embroidery on the cuffs and lapels.  Kylo wants to peel him out of it all.  Wants to rub himself along all that bare, scarred skin and just... _take_.  

A feminine ‘ _I love you, darling_ ’ rings in the back of his mind, Hux’s gruff _‘I love you, too’_ not far behind.

“Kylo.  We need to talk.”

“Do we?  I wasn’t aware I answered to the hired help.”

It’s difficult to sneer around a cigarette, but Kylo’s had a great deal of practice.  He blows the stream out into Hux’s face.

“Fuck off.”

Kylo watches those lips pinch, go white around the edges.  A small part of him quivers, waits for Hux to shout.

 _Come on_ , he thinks silently, _come on, I know you want to._

Hux takes a steadying breath, in and out.  Looks down on Kylo again.

“I’m not just hired help, and we both know it.  Stop being a brat.”

Something in Kylo freezes.  He can feel it tottering right on the edge of some proverbial cliff and the breath halts in his chest as if the slightest wind will send this amorphous something toppling over into the abyss.  Tension fills the room, wraps around Kylo’s throat.

“What-”

“Sirs, the limo is ready.”

Kylo isn’t sure if he’s grateful for Jessika Pava’s timely intrusion, or if he wants to murder her with his bare hands.  Regardless, the high tension in the room has shattered.  He stands, putting out the cigarette in the tray on the table next to him.  Reaches for his coat, starts to put it on.

“We’ll be right down.”

She ducks out with a quick nod.  Kylo is moving toward the door when Hux grabs his wrist.  He spins in rage.  The steady look in that blue gaze stops whatever he was about to say.

“We’re not finished here.”

Kylo finds that swallowing has become difficult.   _‘I love you, darling’_ echoes again in his head.  He pulls his wrist sharply away, trying not to think about the fact that if Hux had wanted him to stay, Kylo would never have been able to get away.

“Yes, we _are_.”

He storms out the door and into the car, Hux close behind.  

They don’t speak on the way to _Finalizer_.  Kylo doesn’t know if he’s happy or disappointed.  Hux gazes out the window, something intense in the set of his jaw.  Kylo think about putting the partition up between them and Jess, just to see what happens.  It wouldn't take much.  A twitch of the finger.

In the end, though, that quiet ‘ _I love you_ ’ keeps his hands in his lap, and the partition window down.

He goes straight to the bar once they arrive.

* * *

 

Hux leans against the wall, used to _Finalizer_ enough now that the press of people and the loud music don’t suck him under into a flashback.  At the bar, Kylo has downed something like six shots with no sign of stopping, and he knows he’ll be carrying the asshole up the stairs again.  They won’t be talking tonight.

Which is probably why he lets his guard down.

Nearly an hour later, when Hux glances at the bar, tracking the sound of shattering glass (just a clumsy bar keep), Kylo vanishes from the dance floor.  Literally, one moment he is dancing with a blonde that may have been male or female, and the next, he’s gone.

Panic seizes Hux’s chest, but not his mind.  As calmly as his training allows, his eyes dart around the smoky interior.  Not on the edges of the floor.  Not going into one of the booths.  Not back at the bar for another shot.  Not up on the DJ’s stage, getting ready to crowd surf.

There.

The strobe lights and shadows would have normally made catching that tiny movement impossible, but Kylo is wearing so much jewelry, he almost lights up the room on his own.  His charge is hand in hand with the blonde he was grinding against earlier, making for the fire exit off to the side.  

Rage takes the place of panic.

While tantrums were frequent and Kylo could be a downright shit, he’s never attempted to leave Hux’s presence before.  It was one of very few things he was forbidden to do.

Enough was enough.

Balancing his hands on the railing, Hux vaults over it and drops onto the dance floor.  The crowd backs hastily away from him as he moves across the wild space.  Whether due to his rather flashy entrance or the look of murder on his face, he can’t say, and he doesn’t care.  He watches Kylo and his would-be lover vanish out of the fire escape, and when the alarm doesn’t sound, Hux spares a disgusted thought for worthless management.  He catches the door just as it’s about to close.

Hearing laughter, he sees a slip of black turn the corner.  Footsteps echo through the alley.  

Hux _sprints_.

Normally, he would never gain ground this quickly in a chase, but he had the lucky foresight to wear boots tonight.  His quarry is less lucky in tottering heels.

He takes the corner sharply, actually slides more than turns, and is seizing his erstwhile charge by the hair before they can make the street.  He grabs the accomplice by the throat as they turn with the force of his pull.

There are twin yowls of pain as he yanks Kylo back by his locks and slams the petite...woman against the wall by her neck.  He feels no pity for her.  He’s long known danger comes in all shapes, sizes, and wrappings.

“I suggest you make yourself scarce, miss.  Before I lose what little grip I’ve left on my temper.”

Her eyes are huge in the street light, the harsh yellow of it obscuring whatever color her irises might be.  She nods frantically, and when he releases her, she flees almost quickly enough to leave an after image.  Then he turns to Kylo, who has the actual gall to struggle in his unyielding grip.

“Let go of me!  How dare you put your hands on me!”

Hux shakes Kylo like he would the scruff of a very poorly behaved dog.  There is another cry of pain, and then the other man falls silent.  Then he drags him close until their faces are mere inches apart.

“I will not tolerate being made a fool of!” he roars.  Kylo actually shrinks back in his grip, fear banked in his eyes.

 _Good_ , Hux thinks.

It takes Kylo a moment to recover, but when he does, the rage in his eyes is almost a match for what Hux feels.

“I haven’t done anything!  You’ve no say where I go or what I do, you useless piece of trash.  Now fucking let go!”

Hux smacks him with his free hand.  Thinks about doing it again as _useless_ reverberates through his brain.  Instead, he begins to drag Kylo by his hair toward the street.  Kylo fights him all the way.  Of course the press, sniffing around at the entrance to such a popular club, notice.

By the time Hux has muscled Kylo to the limo, three or for paparazzi have snapped what will probably amount to several dozen pictures.  Senator Organa is going to have his head for this.  The thought spurs his rage, and he yanks open the door before Jess can get to it, and then heaves Kylo Ren into the vehicle by his hair.  He turns sharply to Pava.

“The mansion. Now.”

She bolts for the drivers door.

He climbs in and slams the passenger door behind him.  Kylo is hissing and spitting, looking like he might bodily leap at hux now that he’s free.  His nose is bleeding.  

Hux levels him with a look that he hopes embodies exactly how close he is to murder at this moment.  He can’t say if it works, but Kylo freezes.

“Not one word until we return.  If I hear a noise out of you, I will not be held responsible for what happens next.”

Naturally, Kylo’s mouth pops open.

“ _Not. One. Word._ ”

It shuts again with a ‘click’ and Kylo curls into the corner of the seat furthest from Hux, radiating impotent rage and indignation.  

The ride is tense and brittle, like one wrong move will send them at each other’s throats.  When they pull up to the front steps, Hux climbs out, then holds the door for Kylo.  When the other man looks like he might bolt, Hux grips him by the arm.

He marches Kylo as quietly as possible through the foyer and up the stairs.  When they reach Kylo’s suite, Hux bodily throws him into it, and then slams the door behind himself.  When Kylo turns sharply, mouth already opening, Hux backhands him with all the pent-up rage he has been holding for the last week and a half.  Kylo hits the floor.

Silence reigns.  

Then Kylo gives a mean little chuckle from the floor.  Turning back to Hux, he wipes at the fresh blood on his face carelessly.

“Is that the best you can do?”  His tone is mocking.

No.  No, it isn’t.  Hux is tired of being patient with this demonic little ingrate.

He slaps Kylo again, this time with his palm.  Then, before Kylo can recover, he has the other man by the throat.  Muscles flex as he lifts and then spins both of them to slam Kylo down on his back on the coffee table.

Kylo shouts in pain.  He’s fighting Hux now, sharp finger nails scrabbling at all the tender places Hux has taught him to find in an attacker.  He might even be proud, if he were not so angry and utterly at the end of his tolerance.  When Kylo’s fingers find his collarbone, trying to dig behind it, Hux lifts him again.  They both slam into the wall.

Kylo’s hand slips, falls away.  His feet lash out at Hux, trying to find purchase, but Hux has years of experience, and Kylo is still learning.  He uses his grip to shove him back into the wall, harder this time.   Kylo’s left hand sweeps out, knocks a lamp off a side table with a crash.  Hux wonders, in the back of his mind, if anyone will react to all the noise.

Then Kylo gets a foot around his knee and they’re both tumbling to the floor.  Hux lands on his back, his grip on Kylo’s throat loosening.  Kylo goes for Hux’s face with his nails.  The redhead manages to roll them over before he is successful.  He yanks at the front of Kylo’s shirt, dragging him closer.  His other hand is raised for another strike.

“You’re a goddamn disgrace!” Hux snarls.  

“Fuck you!” Kylo yells back, still trying to claw Hux’s face off.

“I’m going to-”

“Bring it, ginger bitch-”

Hux is atop Kylo, straddling his hips like every romantic story’s favorite cliche.  He is poised to bring his fist down on Kylo’s newly re-bleeding face, several times.  Then he feels it.  There is a press against his ass that is unmistakable.

Kylo is hard, full aroused.

Hux pauses, his grip loosening and his arm lowering.  They stare at each other, both chests heaving as they pant from exertion.  Hux watches as that splotchy red that signals a Kylo Ren blush blooms it’s way across pale skin.  

From his chest to the roots of his dark hair, Kylo flushes.  There are what looks like tears at the corner of his eyes.  He raises one hand to block his face in some too-late gesture of modesty.

“I-uh-I can explain…” he begins. When Hux just keeps staring at him, all the discordant pieces of his behavior suddenly clicking into place behind blue eyes, Kylo turns even redder.

“Oh, fuck, just get the fuck off me….please…”

Hux feels lightheaded.  Like an absolute moron.  How could he have missed this for so long?  Suddenly, everything made a horrifying kind of sense. He must have seen Hux come back from one of his trysts.  Instead of saying anything, he’d lashed out.  Thinks, suddenly, about everything Phasma had yelled at him.  

Oh.   _Oh_.

For a single moment, he considers granting Ren’s request.  He can just get up and walk away, and they’ll go back to pretending there isn’t anything between them.  It would be the sensible solution, the professional one.

The safe one.

For the first time in a very long time, Hux thinks, _Fuck safe_ , and jumps.

He pulls Kylo’s hands from his face, pins them to the floor as he leans down to murmur in one of those exquisite ears:

“I knew you were a sick little bitch, but this is a new low even for you.”

Then he sinks his teeth into the lobe.  Not gently either.

“F-fuck you.” Kylo gasps, but the effect is ruined by the way it ends in a drawn out moan. His hips roll upward as Hux traces the shell of his ear with his tongue, before setting his teeth into Kylo’s jaw.  He follows the hard line of it around to his chin, drops down to sink his teeth into that white throat like he’s wanted to for months.  He hears as well as feels the alluring sound Kylo makes as he sucks a bruise into the tender skin there.

Kylo’s hands twist and fight against his hold, hips rolling up against any friction he can get.  That friction is currently Hux’s own cock, hard through his trousers and starting to hurt where it presses against the zipper.  It feels good, but Hux doesn’t want to come in his pants like some randy teenager.  This has been too long coming for such a swift and ignominious ending.  He releases one of Kylo’s hands, using his now freed appendage to brace himself on the hard floor.  He lifts his hips upward, ignoring the other man’s whine.

“Not yet.” he pants, “I want this to last.”

He’s not sure exactly what he’s really talking about.

Kylo’s free hand darts upward, seizes his tie, and _yanks_.  With his balance off, Hux isn’t able to stop his mouth from colliding with Kylo’s.  It’s too fast.  There is pain in his mouth, and the taste of blood that could belong to either one of them.  He doesn’t care.

Fire seems to explode through him, making everything slightly hazy.  Swiftly, he’s released, Kylo’s head falling back onto the floor with a loud noise.  His dark eyes are glassy, blood smeared across the lower half of his face.  His fingers dig into Hux’s hair.  The fumbling dislodges the eyepatch.

Then their mouths are together again, swamped in heat and desire long suppressed.  

“Stay.” Hux orders when he tears his mouth away. He releases Kylo’s other hand.  Ren lays there, chest heaving, as Hux seizes the onyx tunic he is wearing and rips it in half.  The reward is a frantic moan and the top half of his body bending upward in an arch of skin that Hux wants to take a bite out of.

So he does.  

Kylo is murmuring to him as he drags his teeth along where shoulder meets chest, his ribs, the fluttering skin of his belly.  Fingers trace aimless patterns across his shoulders, punctuated by the occasional stab of nails.

“That was a three hundred dollar tunic, you ass.  Yes, harder!  Fuck, waited so long for this.”

Hux laughs into the dark trail of hair arrowing along Ren’s belly.  Bites and laves it with his tongue as Ren groans.  Hux reaches for Kylo’s pants, pulls them down to his shoes, sits back on his heels to admire the view.

“Shameless slut, aren’t you?” he says when he realises Ren isn’t wearing anything under his trousers.  He’s not sure why he’s surprised, since he’s already known this from the lounge bathroom. Kylo keens, arches up again, hands flung back out above his head where Hux put them in the first place.  

Hux wants all of him, all at once.  Takes a deep breath, grits his teeth to keep from doing just that.  Instead, he lowers his head, lets Kylo buck up in anticipation, and then bites Ren’s hip bone hard enough to draw blood.

The sound he gets is more animal than human, and that is that.  His control snaps, nearly audibly.  

Rearing back, he loosens his tie just enough to get it over his head, and then he’s throwing it away.  Kylo starts to sit up, distracting him with the way his flesh ripples.  Hux spares a hand from undoing his buttons to force the other man back to the floor with force.

“ _Stay_.” he orders again.  Kylo makes an impatient noise, but remains on the floor this time.  Hux fumbles his holster off, makes sure to set it down within reach on the earlier coffee table.  Drags his shirt from his shoulders, over his wrists.  Kylo’s hands are on him then, tracing the map of scars across his torso.  Hux lets him as he reaches to remove his gloves.

Ren whimpers under him.  Hux pauses, one finger under the glove of his other hand, ready to strip it off.  He looks down, considers those dark, pupil blown eyes, and then reaches for his trouser zipper without taking off the gloves.

One of Kylo’s clever fingers teases his nipple, nails dragging across Hux’s skin.  He snarls, pleased and yet not.  His hands are suddenly bruising on Kylo’s hips, flipping him over onto his stomach.  Focused, Hux yanks the tight trousers on his charge’s legs, hears ripping seams.  Leaves his shoes on.  Kylo’s hands scrabble on the floor, looking for purchase as Hux slides one finger down the crack of his ass.

The move is smoother than he’s expecting.

“Oh, you filthy boy.  Did you already prep yourself?”

A high pitched noises echoes in the back of Kylo’s throat, hips twitching as Hux gets one gloved digit in him.  He’s loose already, and slippery with lubricant.  Hux’s cock twitches painfully when he realizes he can slide right in.  Beneath him, Ren is panting.

“Come on.  Come on, come on, _come on_.  Stop teasing and fuck me already!”

The slap of leather against flesh is loud in the otherwise silent space.  A cry escapes Kylo, his head dropping forward and his hips canting back.  The mark Hux left on his asscheek is already turning a lovely shade of pink.

“Hush, you.”

But his hands are already working his own trousers down around his knees, while he uses said knees to nudge those long legs apart.  Then he’s leaning back over Kylo, one hand planted on the floor in the juncture of his shoulder and neck.  The other leaves more bruises along his waist.  He lines his cock up to the wet entrance of Ren’s body.

“Deep breath.” he tells the other man.  Ren snorts.

“Fuck you.”

“Not this time.”

Then he’s pressing inside, Kylo moaning long and loud beneath him.  Inside is hot, enough that Hux wonders if he’s gone mad and if his blood is just going to boil out through his pores.   Kylo’s muscles clench around him as the other man pants and whines.  Hux takes a single moment to catch his breath, and then everything is heat and sweat and skin.

The hand on the floor dives back into Ren’s hair, allowing Hux to pin him there against the floor with his own body weight.  Kylo can do nothing except lie there and take Hux’s cock.  He’s mewling with every thrust, muscles along his back bunching.  Hux wants to mark him further.  

He leans over, pressing his chest to Kylo’s back, and clamps his teeth where shoulder muscle meets neck.  When Ren wails, he slips his gloved fingers out of dark curls, and inserts two into this mouth to muffle the noise.  Those sounds grow more pleased as Hux increases the speed and power of his thrusts.

For a while, the only sound is the slap on slap of sweaty skin and the gorgeous whines of Kylo Ren around his fingers.

He should have known this wouldn’t last.  

All too soon, the heat gets to be too much, too intense.  He feels his balls tighten, and he’s coming into Kylo’s warm body.  Hux groans into that fragrant hair, seeing starbursts behind his eyes.  When it’s over, he release the death grip he has on Ren’s hip, reaches around and begins to pump his cock, Hux’s still wedged in his ass.

“Come for me, Kylo.” he whispers hot into the shell of Kylo’s ear.  Twice, thrice, and then Kylo is coming over Hux’s fist and onto the floor with a muffled scream.

They collapse onto the floor.  

Hux rolls them a little, feeling boneless.  Satiated in a way his other partner had never left him.  The floor is cool against his side; the skin that is touching is almost burning as they pant.  When they’ve both had some time to catch their breath, Kylo rolls away from him, Hux sliding from him all at once.

He drags his shoes and pants off, then curls his knees against his chest, back to Hux.  Hux traces the ink of the tattoo scrawled across those massive shoulder blades.

_Sin will find you._

Well, it certainly had, at that.  

He’s wondering how in the hell he’ll find the energy to get them both off the floor and into bed.  It’s starting to get cold.

“You’re despicable.” Kylo says all at once, like the words hurt as they rush out of him.  Ice seizes Hux’s stomach.  Had he misread things?  Had Kylo not actually wanted this?  Fear and horror start to bloom on the back of his tongue.

“What-”

“You tell that woman you love her, and the very same night you fuck me into the floor.”

Hux can hear the tears in Ren’s voice, is reaching out to him with one hand when his words get through his brain.

Wait.  What?

“I...beg your pardon?” he says to that pale back, bruises already rising in livid counterpoint.  Kylo turns his head just a little, and now Hux can _see_ the tears before the other man dashes them angrily away.

“Don’t play dumb with me.  I heard you earlier.  You had her on speaker phone.  ‘I love you, darling.’”

He does the last bit in terrible imitation of a British accent, and all at once Hux understands.

He throws his head back and laughs.

Kylo turns to give him a horrendously hurt look before scrambling to his feet and making for the bedroom.  Hux reaches for his wrist and misses.  When he starts to get up and follow, he gets tangled in the trousers he still has on.  By the time he’s wrestled them and his boots off, Kylo has vanished into the other room, slamming the door behind him.

Oh, no.  They are not leaving it at goddamn slammed doors, _again_ .  They need to talk, and they are talking _now_.  Hux is done with mistakes and misunderstandings.  He stalks over, completely naked, and yanks the door back open.  From the sounds echoing out of the open bathroom, Kylo’s made for the shower.

Fine.  Hux needs one, as well.

Kylo whirls on him when Hux comes in, his eyes momentarily darting over every bit of exposed flesh he’s never seen before.  Then he recovers and sneers down that long nose.  He’s just rinsed the blood off his face, and Hux can see his lip is cut too.  Tries not imagine what his own face must look like, with the flaky sensation he’s feeling.

When Hux opens his mouth, Ren turns angrily away and steps into the steaming shower.  So Hux gets in after him.

“What the fuck? Get out-”Kylo starts to sputter.  Hux crowds him against the tiled wall of the enclosure, shutting the door behind them.  Then he braces his hands on either side of Kylo’s head, which is turned resolutely away from him.  Bruised arms are crossed in front of his chest.

Hux lets him stew in silence for a  moment, choosing his words carefully.

“The woman you heard this afternoon was Sherine Marchester-”

“Oh, bully for you.  How soon will she be Mrs. Hux, then?” The words are bitter, spit between gritted teeth.  When is everyone going to stop interrupting him, Hux wonders briefly.

“Never.”

Kylo turns his head to glare.

“You told her you loved her, too.  Don’t deny it, I heard you!”

“That is because Sherine Marchester is my mother.”

“Why would you---oh.”

Hux feels a smile cross his face as horror and wonder and fear all cross Kylo’s face.  Those big, dark eyes glance slightly down at him, wide with terrified hope.  

“Yes, _oh_.”

Kylo seems to mull this over for a moment.

“Well, what about your blonde...friend?”

Hux considers teasing him, asking if he means Phasma. He decides now is not the time.  Instead, he pulls Ren under the spray of the shower head.

“She was a distraction.  If you want to know what happened to her, you’ll need to ask Phasma.  All I know is that it’s permanent.”

He catches the look on Kylo’s face.

“No, she didn’t kill her.  Although I’m sure Phasma considered it.  Probably couldn’t find a suitable dumping ground.”

He plays it as a joke, doesn’t mention to Ren that he’s actually serious.  The big body against his relaxes, head dropping enough for Hux to run shampoo through the dark strands.

“Also, you do not get to throw stones when I had to actually watch you with all those others, Kylo.” he says gently as he cards his soapy fingers through Kylo’s hair.  Ren’s shoulders droop, and he looks, for the first time in their acquaintance, ashamed.

“I know.”

The words are barely audible over the spray. His big hands are tracing Hux’s shoulders, cleaning his hair in turn.  They both pause to rinse under the running water. Hux supposes that is as close to an apology as either of them is willing to come, and decides to leave it at that.

“So what now?” Ren asks, sliding conditioner through Hux’s hair.  Hux sighs.

“Besides your mother firing me for the pictures in tomorrow’s newspapers?”

“She won’t fire you for those.”

“Kylo, I’m assaulting you in them.”

Those big shoulders shrug.

“Not even close to the worst I’ve been caught doing by the paparazzi.  If she gives you grief, let me deal with it.”

Hux is less than relieved.  Kylo sees this, and actually smiles.  A smug little twitch of the lips.  Then those lips are against Hux’s, tongue slipping between them.  Fingers tangle in wet locks, and for some time they stop speaking.  When they break apart, panting, Kylo looks down at his feet shyly.

“What about...us?”

“What about us?” Hux asks as he switches off the shower.  They step into the steamy air of the bathroom and he reaches for the only towel there.  Turns and begins to pat Kylo dry.  Kylo was clearly not expecting this, because his words seem startled out of him.

“Well-I mean- _is_ there an us?”

Hux wraps the towel over Ren’s shoulders, uses it as a lever to bring their mouths back together.  He makes sure to be very thorough.  He can feel Ren’s renewed interest against his stomach when they break apart.

“I’m toweling you dry after fucking you on the floor without bothering to fully undress.  What do you think?”

“I think it’s just sex.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“I’m not a-what?”

Hux wants to let it go, leaving Kylo with his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish out of water.  But he remembers the discussion he had with his mother.  Had that really been this afternoon?

_“Be honest, my baby.  Even when it scares you, say the words.  They always mean something.”_

She was also nearly always right, so Hux took a deep breath, feeling his lungs and ribs expand.

“I would think that at this point it would be obvious I care for you.  If this was just sex, we’d have gotten here ages ago.”

He herds Kylo out into the dark bedroom and onto the waiting sheets.  When he steps away for a moment, Kylo grips his wrists frantically. He turns to chastise him, but the fear and hope in those dark eyes give him pause.  Kylo looks so young in this moment, and more fragile than Hux has ever seen him.  He swallows hard against the thick feeling in his throat.  He knows he’s going to have to say it.  He sends up a silent prayer to the universe that Ren won’t laugh him out of the room.

Bending close, he whispers the words against Ren’s sweet mouth.

“I love you.  God help me, but I do.”

Kylo’s arms slip around him and he buries his face against Hux’s shoulder.  His shoulders shake with sobs, and Hux feels hot dampness against his skin.  He pets that dark hair, murmurs soothingly.  Tries not to think about the ache in his back from standing bent over for this long.

After a time, when he’s actually starting to feel like his ass is going to freeze off, Kylo mumbles something against his neck.

“What was that?”

Kylo mumbles again.

“ _Words_ , Kylo.”

They pull slightly apart.  Ren looks up at him then, and Hux feels his heart soften.  Ren is an ugly crier.  A horrifically ugly crier, and it’s annoyingly endearing.  Red-rimmed dark eyes stare up at him, and then Ren sniffles.

“I love you, too.”

It’s a whisper, but it goes through Hux like the rapport of a gunshot.  He digs his fingers into Ren’s hair, tackles him back onto the bed, and fuses their mouths together.  They don’t speak again for a long time.

As they are falling asleep later, tangled in the sheets and each other, Hux thinks bitterly that he owes Phasma some sort for present for being right...damn her.  Then he tucks his nose in against Kylo’s neck, listening to the other man’s quiet snores, and smiles.

* * *

 

Phasma’s phone rings right as there’s a knock on the door of their apartment.  Rey goes for the door, bleary eyed and only wearing one of Phasma’s shirts.  Phasma herself answer her call.

“Hello?”

“Go check your front door.”

She pulls the phone away, wondering how in fuck Kylo Ren got her number.  Then Rey comes staggering back into the room, and Phasma eyes the huge basket of imported coffee she secretly adores but can’t always afford that is she places on the counter.  Slowly, Phasma puts the phone back to her ear.

“That’s some very expensive coffee, Slim Jim.”

“Okay, first off, how...you know what?  No.  Don’t tell me where or why or _how_ you come up with those fucking nicknames.  I don't want to know.  Second, Hux said we should get you something nice…”

“You want to know what I did to _her_?”

“...Not really, so long as she’s not coming back.”

“She’s not.”

Rey is squealing and holding up some very interesting silky thing.  Phasma wants her to put it on just so she can rip it off.  There’s another voice coming over the open line, far enough away that she can’t make it out.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to that Hux, geez.  For an old man, you’re really impatient-OW!”

“Ok, if you two start making sex noises, I’m hanging up.”

“We’re not.”

Kylo Ren sounds rather put out about that, too.  Phasma feels herself start to smile.

“So you both got your heads out of your asses, then?”

“Thank to you, I’m told.”

She’s laughing now, head thrown back.  Reaching over, she picks up the paper that had come in with the packages, admires the front page picture.

“So the Senator isn’t sacking him?”

There’s a disgusted noise from the other end of the line.

“When are people going to figure out I can handle my mother?  Oh, shut up, Hux, yes I can!”

She puts the paper down, starts to root through the huge basket.

“Well, thank you accepted, Tan Banana. You got something for Finn and Poe, too, I hope?”

“Tan-no.  Nope.  Not going there.  No.  Also, yes, I did.”

Something in his voice makes her stop her rummaging and straighten up.

“You got them sex toys, didn’t you?”

“I got them sex toys.”

He sounds so smug and pleased with himself, she not sure whether to laugh or cry.  Hux makes an angry sound in in the background, and then Kylo is laughing.

“-you did not seriously-” she hears Hux snarling, and then the call ends abruptly.  She stares at it for a bit, then puts it down.  Not her circus, and Kylo Ren was not her monkey.  Thank the universe.  

“What do you think?”

She looks over at Rey, who is now standing in that sexy bit of silk, looking like a million bucks.  As Phasma drags her off to bed, she supposes that as long as she’s not the ringmaster, this crazy circus was okay in her book.

* * *

 

In late December, just before the city would close business for the holidays, Hux goes to see his therapist for the first time in longer than he wants to think about.  The man looks at him steadily over his bifocals.  Hux still doesn’t know how he ended up with some sort of hippy as a therapist, with long hair tied back in a ponytail and a hoop in his left ear.

“It’s been awhile, General Hux.”

Hux sits in the armchair across from him, listens to the ticking of the clock, the soothing sounds of something classical turned down on the radio in the corner.

“Vivaldi.  Sabat Mater, if I am not mistaken.”

His therapist grins.

“You know, I don’t have the first clue.  I put that crap on to be soothing.”

For some reason, this makes Hux smile.  He has always appreciated honesty, even when it concerns something he doesn’t want to hear.  He once welcomed it in his men, occasionally to his internal regret, and he welcomes it now.

“Stimulating, more like.  Allows the brain to function more efficiently.”

“That’s your opinion, General.  Everyone has a right to them.”

Hux raises his eyebrow.

“Even when they’re wrong?” he asks, pointedly.  The other man tips his head back, gives an easy laugh.

“ _Especially_ when they’re wrong!”

This leads to a moment of comfortable silence, in which Hux considers why he is here in the first place.  His therapist waits, more patient even than Hux, head propped on a fist on the arm of his chair.  When Hux has been quiet for several minutes, he softly asks:

“Found anything you want to hold onto, since our last session?”

Hux thinks of Phasma, sitting in a hospital chair after a night of no sleep just to be sure he’s safe.  Of Rey, with her hands on Phasma’s face, and the unholy grin she wears when Kylo hits the mats _again_.  Finn and Poe, attached at the hip more often than not, and so in-love they sicken everyone around them.  Millicent, curled up against his hip and purring herself to sleep.

Kylo.  Kylo in a million ways.  His hair, his eyes, his smile.  His rage and his tears, his untameable sass.  Long fingers tracing Hux’s scars.  Lips kissing them.  The sound he makes when Hux bottoms out inside of him, neck arching and covered in the purpling bruises left by bites.  Sleeping so peacefully in Hux’s bed, like finally something is right in his world.

Hux looks the other man in the eye, and feels the smallest hint of a smile curl his mouth.

“You know, I believe I have.”

* * *

 

Kylo is waiting in Hux’s bed when he returns.  He’s wearing a ribbon around his neck, and not much else, sprawled across the mattress.  Hux takes his time and enjoys the view as he puts his coat away.

“May I ask what the ribbon is for?”

Kylo grins up at him.

“Christmas present.”

Hux chuckles.

“Ah.  Well, wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise by opening anything early.  Besides, naughty children get coal, not presents.”

Kylo’s hips shift up from the mattress.  

“Hux!”

The plug Hux had fucked him with earlier is still inserted, and it shines obscenely now.  Hux plants one knee on the bed, taps it with a gloved finger.  Kylo moans and writhes beneath him.

“Well...I admit you seem to have been very good while I was gone.  You deserve a small reward.”

He slides the plug out with a slick sound, twisting it to make Kylo kick his heels out.  Then he unzips his fly, pulls out his hard cock, and lowers himself down onto the writhing form of his charge.  He bites the meat of Kylo’s shoulder, hard, as he thrusts himself sharply into that waiting hole.  Kylo wraps one hand around his back and the other in his hair, muffling his wail into Hux’s shirt.

Hux’s fingers press new bruises into Kylo’s ribs, hips, and arms to match the healing green ones and the blue-purple ones from previous escapades.  Then he slips one hand behind Kylo’s neck, pulls the ribbon tight as he turns his thrusts punishingly hard.

Kylo’s gasps and squeaky moans are high-pitched and pleased.  He tilts his neck sideways to give Hux more room to bite, his nails sink into Hux’s clothed back.  It’s too hot, too hard, to last very long.

Releasing his grip on the ribbon, Hux instead digs his hand into Kylo’s hair.  Pulls hard.  Kylo’s hole tightens around his dick, draws a grunt from him.  Lips tease against his ear.

“Please.  Hux, please.  May I come?”

Hux wraps his other gloved fist around Kylo’s erection.  He’s rewarded with another wail.

“Such a good boy, to ask permission.  So good.  Do you want to come, Kylo?”

He bites as Kylo’s earlobe, worries it until he tastes blood.  Kylo is nearly incoherent beneath him, hips bucking wildly into his fist.  Those large hands rove Hux’s back until one grips an ass cheek.  The other lays across his still-clothed shoulder, digging in.

“Words, Kylo.”

“Please.  Please.  Yes, please, let me come.  Hux, please!”

A bite to the underside of the jaw is Kylo’s reward.

“Good boy, Kylo.  Come.”

The man beneath him needs no further encouragement.  He tips over the edge with a cry that is perilously close to a scream.  He tightens suddenly, sending Hux to his own orgasm.  He spills inside Kylo with a groan.

They lay there panting for some time before Hux rolls onto his side, gathering Kylo up against his chest.  He brushes kisses over the sweat-damp locks, murmuring praise.  At last, Kylo looks up at him with a lazy smile and sated eyes.  Presses forward to catch Hux’s mouth in a kiss.

“Merry Christmas, General Hux.” he breathes against Hux’s lips.

“Merry Christmas, Kylo Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've come to the end, darlings. But fear not. I'll be posting more into a series because MyThoughtCrime has so many good works, I just won't be able to leave this AU alone. Thanks for taking this ride with me!
> 
> PS,,,I just realized this fic fails the Bechdel Test. Boooooo!

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note: Half the information of the motorcycles Han and Rey discuss is true. The other I completely made up. But which half? -evil cackle-


End file.
